SON-IN-LAW BY DAY, UNDERGROUND KING BY NIGHT

3

The only mistake I made was keeping you around for this long,” Arthur scoffed, utterly dismissive. He gestured to the two burly, silent guards standing by the door. “Mr. Dray is finished here. He will sign the last documents and be escorted out immediately. If he refuses, well, I’m sure he’ll find a way to land himself in a far more unpleasant situation. Aria has already filed a preemptive police report concerning alleged violence from you. She provided photographic proof and statements from the staff. It was a protective measure she took. Sign and leave now if you don’t want this to be escalated to an actual physical confrontation and arrest, Mikael. Do not test me.”

Mikael looked down at the documents one last time. The marriage was a sham, a business transaction. The stability he craved was a lie used to motivate him. The name he was given was nothing more than a leash. He was left with nothing. He picked up the heavy, silver pen Arthur had offered earlier.

“Fine,” he said, his eyes meeting Arthur’s across the polished glass table. There was no pain in his gaze now, only a terrifying clarity. “I’ll sign. But understand this, Arthur. You think you’ve just gotten rid of a stray dog you found on the street. You have actually just released a starving wolf back into the city.”

Arthur smirked, entirely unimpressed, raising his hand in a wave of dismissal. “Tsssk. I haven’t seen a wolf without teeth or a pack that could threaten a rabbit. Hurry up, I have a toast to prepare with my real future partner.”

Mikael signed the three documents.....annulment, non-disclosure, severance....with three swift, vicious strokes of the pen. He didn’t bother to look at the check amount; he knew it was a pittance designed only to buy his silence for a few weeks. He stood up slowly, his gaze never leaving Arthur’s face.

“Goodbye, Arthur,” Mikael said, his voice flat and devoid of all emotion. “I hope you get to enjoy your wealth and your Kylian merger. Because you absolutely will not enjoy what comes next for you and your family.”

The two security guards immediately moved to flank him, grabbing him firmly by the arms. They did not escort him to the private, CEO elevator. Instead, they took him down through a back staircase to the service exit, forcing him to walk through the company’s vast, empty, subterranean parking garage. The guards maintained a silent, heavy pressure on his arms the entire time, their grip a clear warning.

As he finally stepped out onto the desolate street, the cool night air hit his face. The towering city, which he had helped to shape and control from the shadows of this penthouse, now felt vast, indifferent, and suddenly very dangerous.

He had nothing but the expensive clothes on his back and a useless bank account that Arthur would surely clean out by the time the sun rose. They had taken everything he had earned: his labor, his time, his last shred of hope for a stable, normal life. They had successfully branded him a violent aggressor and then ruthlessly tossed him onto the street.

The guards steered him toward a sleek, black sedan parked directly in the curb cut. As Mikael bent to enter the vehicle, a different group of vehicles suddenly roared up and surrounded the sedan in a tight, official formation. Blue and red lights flashed, suddenly bathing the desolate street corner in a chaotic, urgent wash of color. Two unmarked police cars and an armored transport van screeched to a halt, blocking the road.

The guards who were escorting Mikael stiffened immediately. Before anyone could move, six more men, wearing heavy, dark jackets labeled "CITY PROSECUTION TASK FORCE" jumped out of the vehicles. They were fast, efficient, and heavily armed.

One of the new men, who looked like a stone wall and had the cold, focused eyes of a predator, immediately stepped toward Mikael, pushing the Elston guards aside with barely a glance. He held up a thick stack of papers.

“Mikael Dray?” the man, a lead investigator, asked in a monotone voice.

“That’s me,” Mikael confirmed, his mind racing, the pieces of Arthur’s final trap clicking into place.

“You are hereby under arrest. This is a warrant issued by the City Prosecution Office,” the investigator stated, not waiting for a response. He read the charges from the document in his hand. “The charges include multiple counts of felony fraud, wire fraud, conspiracy to defraud shareholders, and… aggravated corporate money laundering tied to the Aethel contract negotiations.”

Mikael stared at the official documents, a surge of adrenaline pushing past his fear. “Money laundering? But that’s impossible. I followed every protocol. I oversaw every single dollar—”

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” the investigator interrupted, immediately cuffing Mikael’s wrists together with a sharp click of steel. “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you.”

The other task force officers were already efficiently searching Mikael and moving to secure the Elston guards, who looked panicked and useless.

Mikael was roughly pushed toward the rear of the armored transport van. He twisted his neck, forcing his head up, looking toward the towering Elston Group penthouse building. Twenty floors up, in the massive glass window of the executive office, he saw a small figure silhouetted against the bright interior lights.

It was Arthur Elston.

Arthur was standing by the window, a champagne flute raised high in a triumphant toast. He looked down, saw Mikael being shoved into the van, and his face broke into a wide, malicious, victorious smile. The silver pen that Mikael had used to sign his life away glinted in Arthur’s hand before he placed it back on the desk. He had planned every single detail.

At that moment, Mikael knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the core, that he would not be escaping this simple trap. He had not only been fired; he had been systematically dismantled. The annulment and the severance package were just the smooth distraction, the carrot before the crushing weight of the stick.

Mikael offered no resistance as he was shoved into the back of the dark van. He followed quietly, his eyes narrowed, the wolf he had mentioned to Arthur finally, truly awake and ready to fight.

When he arrived at the City Prosecution Office, the process was swift and brutal. He was immediately taken to an interrogation room, the walls painted a bland, institutional grey. The lead prosecutor on the case, a cold, sharp-featured woman named Mrs. Vivian Cole, was waiting for him with a massive, organized file of evidence.

“Mr. Dray,” she began, her voice professional and completely lacking in human warmth. “You are being charged with multiple felonies related to an international money laundering scheme that occurred during the final phases of the Aethel contract negotiation. The evidence we have is conclusive, Mr. Dray. Your signature is on the wire transfer documents. The shell companies are traced directly back to your private corporate accounts. The paper trail is flawless.”

Mikael slammed his cuffed hands down on the table, the metallic sound echoing in the small room. “It’s a frame-up! The accounts are company accounts. Arthur Elston signed off on all of this! This is Elston Group strategy, not mine!”

“We have testimony, Mr. Dray,” Mrs. Cole continued calmly, sliding a piece of paper across the table. It was a signed statement. “Testimony from the company’s internal auditors, and from the former Executive Vice President, Mr. James Dalton, clearly stating that the accounts were specifically set up under your personal authority and that you assured them the transfers were necessary for… ‘tax optimization’. Tax optimization, Mr. Dray, that looks exactly like illegal corporate fund siphoning.”

Mikael snatched the statement with his cuffed hands and read James Dalton’s signature. Another betrayal. He looked up at Mrs. Cole, the fury in his eyes now mixed with calculated desperation.

“They had me sign a prenuptial agreement that made all my work the property of the Elston Estate. Why would I steal from myself? Why would I risk my freedom to steal money that I wouldn’t legally be allowed to keep anyway?” Mikael asked, the absurdity of the charge fueling his defense.

Mrs. Cole merely steepled her fingers and smiled thinly. “That, Mr. Dray, is what we call motive. You were aware the marriage was ending. You knew you would be cut off. Our theory is that you set up these external companies to quietly siphon off large, untraceable funds that you could use to start your own life once the annulment was finalized. It’s an exit strategy. A very greedy, very illegal exit strategy. And we have all the documentation we need to prove it.”