Chapter 5 - The UltimatumRyan stared at the manila envelope resting against his shoe as if it were a venomous snake. The blood drained entirely from his face, leaving him a ghastly, ashen gray.
“You… you can’t do this,” Ryan stammered, his voice dropping to a desperate, pathetic whisper. He dropped to his knees right there on the marble floor of the penthouse, ignoring the presence of Damian and the corporate attorney. “Clare, please. We have a son. Think of Eli. He needs a father.”
“Eli needs a father who respects his mother, not a criminal who uses his family as a human shield,” I said, my voice unwavering.
Ryan looked up at me, tears finally spilling over his lashes. The arrogant, untouchable corporate climber was completely gone, replaced by a broken man begging for scraps.
“If you send me to prison, Clare, my life is over,” he sobbed. “I’ll lose everything. I’ll never work again. I’ll be ruined!”
“You ruined yourself the moment you decided I was nothing more than furniture in your life,” I replied coldly.
Damian stepped forward, looking down at Ryan with undisguised contempt. He nudged the envelope with the toe of his shoe.
“Here are your choices, Ryan,” Damian said, his voice hard as iron. “Option one: You sign those confession documents, hand over the keys to your secret accounts, and walk out of this building with the clothes on your back. We won't block Arthur Vance from prosecuting, but we won't add our own federal perjury charges on top of it. Option two: You refuse, and I personally hand these forensic files to the FBI before dinner. Within twenty-four hours, you’ll be sharing a cell with people who don't care much for white-collar criminals.”
Ryan looked between Damian and me, realizing with terrifying clarity that there was no escape. The trap he had laid for me had snapped shut around his own neck.
With trembling hands, Ryan reached out, picked up the pen Damian offered him, and signed away his empire line by line.
When he finished, he looked up at me one last time, his eyes hollow and defeated.
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“Are you happy now, Clare?” he whispered.
“No, Ryan,” I said, turning my back to him and walking over to the floor-to-ceiling window to watch the city lights flicker to life. “I’m not happy. I’m free.”
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