Chapter 5 - The ConfessionThe reception hall had devolved into absolute silence. The jazz band had stopped playing entirely, the musicians packing their instruments into cases with nervous, hurried movements.
Khloe looked at her father, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "Daddy? What is he talking about? What is that drive?"
Judge Davies didn't answer. He was staring at Roman with a look of pure, unadulterated terror. He knew that flash drive contained the digital paper trail of every bribe, kickback, and illegal zoning approval that had built the Davies family fortune over the past decade.
Caleb turned on Khloe, panic rewriting his handsome features into something snarling and ugly. "Don't look at me like that! It’s her fault! If she had just stayed in her tiny apartment and kept quiet, none of this would be happening!"
There it was. The mask slipped completely. The charming, sophisticated gentleman who had once promised to make me his mate for life was gone, replaced by a desperate, cornered coward blaming everyone else for his own catastrophic collapse.
I stepped closer to him, stopping just inches away. I could see the sweat beading along his hairline, staining his white collar.
"You thought I was broken, Caleb," I said softly, ensuring every word carried across the silent room. "You thought because my father died with nothing, you could rewrite history, steal my name, saddle me with your debts, and parade your new life in front of me like a trophy."
"I gave you seven years!" Caleb snapped, his voice cracking with hysteria. "You were supposed to fade away! You were supposed to be nothing!"
"Well," I smiled, letting the cold satisfaction wash over me. "Looks like you miscalculated."
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Roman reached out, his hand resting once more against the small of my back—a firm, grounding anchor that told the entire room whose side absolute power was on. "The bill’s been paid, Reynolds," Roman said quietly. "And the interest is past due."
Before Caleb could lunge or scream, the heavy mahogany doors at the front of the ballroom swung open with a loud, echoing bang. Two men in dark suits—federal marshals accompanied by local precinct captains—walked briskly into the room, their eyes locked straight on Judge Arthur Davies.
