2026-04-24 23:40:34Nelson walked out of the office without a single backward glance. To him, the door closing behind him wasn't just a physical act; it was the final seal on a grave. He was done.
Lisa remained on her knees in the middle of the plush carpet. Time seemed to stretch into an unrecognizable blur. She didn't move until her joints began to ache, her body finally signaling that the floor wasn't going to swallow her whole, no matter how much she wished it would.
She dragged herself to the elevator, her legs feeling like lead. Her face was a messy map of smeared makeup and salt-stained skin. Every word Nelson had uttered—“You and me is over” —played on a loop in her head, a jagged blade cutting through her lingering pride.
This wasn't the Nelson she had married. The man who used to wait up for her with tea, who would apologize even when he’d done nothing wrong... that man was a ghost.
But as she reached the lobby, something inside her snapped. She wasn't ready to let the ghost go. Nelson was a good man. He loved her. He had to. If she could just reach him—really reach him—outside of that cold, intimidating office, maybe he’d remember.
She saw him through the glass doors, walking toward his car.
“Nelson!”
Her voice tore through the quiet professional atmosphere of the lobby. Staff and high-end clients paused, their heads turning in synchronized shock. Lisa didn't care. She ran, her heels clicking frantically against the marble.
Nelson didn't stop. He didn't even break his stride.
She closed the distance, her hand reaching out for his sleeve. She just needed to touch him. But before her fingers could graze the fabric of his suit, a wall of dark blue uniforms stepped between them.
“We’re sorry, ma’am. You can’t go any further,” the security guard said, his voice firm but polite.
“Nelson!” Lisa cried out, her voice cracking. “Please! It doesn't have to end like this. Just give me one minute. Nelson, please!”
For a split second, he stopped.
Lisa held her breath. Hope flared in her chest like a dying candle. Slowly, Nelson turned his head. Only half of his face was visible in the afternoon light—one cold, distant eye that looked right through her.
“Lisa... go home. This conversation is over.”
The car door closed with a heavy, expensive thud.
Lisa froze as the engine purred to life. The candle in her chest didn't just flicker out; it was crushed. She sank to her knees again, right there on the sidewalk, as the black sedan pulled away.
The whispers from the crowd started almost immediately. “Isn’t that the CEO of that furniture startup?” “She looks pathetic. What did she do to him?”
Lisa didn't even try to defend herself. She stood up, her hair shielding her face, and walked toward her own car. But as she gripped the steering wheel, her eyes hardened.
“This won’t end like this,” she whispered to the empty car, her pride clawing its way back to the surface. “I’ll get it all back.”
************
Later that evening...
The Toronto Bar was the kind of place where the lighting was dim and the drinks cost more than a month's rent. Nelson sat in a private booth, his hand resting near Emily’s.
“What would you like?” Nelson asked, his tone softening in a way it never did for the board members.
Emily smiled, a hint of genuine shyness in her eyes. “Something light. I don’t think I have your stamina for the strong stuff.”
Nelson chuckled, the sound rich and relaxed. “Just a sip of the Glenfiddich. It’ll change your mind about whiskey, I promise.”
“You’re very persuasive, Mr. Reed,” she teased.
Across the room, tucked into a corner of the bar, Lisa stood with Bobby. She wasn't drinking. She was staring. She watched the way Nelson leaned toward Emily, the way he laughed—a sound she realized she hadn't heard in years.
That seat beside him... it was hers. Or it was supposed to be.
Bobby noticed the direction of her gaze and let out an annoyed sigh. “Lisa, are we here to have a drink or are we here to watch a movie? Forget him. He’s clearly moved on.”
Lisa didn't respond. She slowly turned and rested her head on Bobby’s chest, but her eyes never left Nelson.
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CHAPTER 102: The Devils Offer
Lisa had not moved from the side of the bed.Her head was resting against the edge of the mattress and the sheet beneath her face was wet in a way she had not noticed until she finally lifted her head and saw it. She had been crying for longer than she realised. The crying that happened quietly and kept going after you thought it had stopped.She looked at Kyler’s face.Even in this state. Even lying here with machines beside him and tubes and the pallor of someone who had given most of themselves away on a garage floor. There was something on his face that had not left. A stillness that was not the stillness of defeat. More like someone who had finished what they set out to do and had made their peace with the cost of it.She thought about the things he used to say to her.She had always dismissed them. Filed them under stubbornness or naivety or the particular blindness of someone who had not yet been in the world long enough to understand how it actually worked.Looking at him now
CHAPTER 101: Blood Of The Parks
Kyler noticed the van before he could explain why it made him uneasy.It was moving too slowly. Not the slow of a driver looking for parking or checking an address. The deliberate slowness of something that was tracking a specific target and had no reason to rush because the target had nowhere to go.He moved away from the road slightly.The van adjusted.That was when his body decided before his mind caught up. His legs picked up pace and his heart followed immediately, beating faster than his footsteps as he moved toward the car park entrance ahead. If he could get inside and reach the back exit he had a chance.He glanced at the van once.Five men visible through the windscreen. Built the way men were built when their job required it. Their faces carried the specific blankness of people given an instruction and no personal feelings about carrying it out.Kyler ran.His legs felt light the way legs felt when fear took over from muscle and pushed everything past its normal limit. The
CHAPTER 100: The Files in the Blue Folder
The air inside the main corridor of the courthouse felt colder than usual, stripped of the manic energy that had filled the morning sessions. Inside the courtroom, the low hum of shifting bodies and murmurs came to an abrupt halt as the heavy oak doors swung open once more.Kyler walked down the center aisle alone. In his right hand, he carried a worn, faded blue folder—its edges frayed, its surface scrawled with faded archive numbers. Every eye in the gallery tracked his movement. He didn't look at the press, nor did he look toward the bench. His focus remained fixed entirely on the defense table where Nelson sat."Your Honor," Kyler said, his voice level as he stopped before the bar. "The court has spent weeks listening to carefully curated narratives regarding the lost shipments, the insurance defaults, and the alleged armed interception orchestrated by Nelson. What has been presented up to this point is a collection of forged manifestations."He opened the blue folder, laying the
CHAPTER 99:The Cashiers Testimony
The heavy doors at the back of the courtroom groaned on their brass hinges as the bailiff stepped forward to call the next witness. A heavy silence settled over the gallery. The air in the room was thick, carrying the damp scent of wet wool coats from the rain outside, mixed with the sterile, lingering tension of a trial quickly veering off its original course. A young woman in a tailored navy blazer walked down the center passageway with deliberate steps, her knuckles white from gripping her leather handbag strap. Her eyes flicked briefly toward the defense table, where Nelson sat motionless in iron cuffs, his shoulders squared against the weight of the room. “State your full name and occupation for the record," the prosecutor instructed, stepping out from behind his table with practiced authority. " “Elena Vance," she said, her voice wavering briefly before gaining a firm, rich tone. "I was the head teller on duty at the First District Bank during the October 14th incident.
CHAPTER 98:The Name We Share
“My Honor,” Claire said, her voice carrying across the silent, polished courtroom with absolute clarity. She offered the panel of judges a measured, brilliant smile—not out of arrogance, but out of a sharp, unyielding conviction. “You have more than enough before you to reach a verdict. Even if the scope of this corruption seems difficult to swallow, the physical trail does not lie. You no longer have a choice. The truth is already on the record.” Before the lead magistrate could reply, a man at the far edge of the prosecution table surged to his feet. His face was flushed crimson, his chair scraping violently against the hardwood floor. “This circus cannot be allowed to continue!” he shouted, his voice cracking under sudden, desperate fury. “This court cannot take these wild fabrications seriously!” Claire turned toward him, her smirk cool and predatory. She had been waiting for him to step into the light. “And who, exactly, are you standing for today, counselor?” Claire asked,
CHAPTER 97: Nine Fingers
The courtroom had been silent since the screen went dark.The judge at the centre of the bench sat with her hands folded in front of her and her eyes on the table. The tears that had come without her permission were gone now. Wiped away quickly with the back of her hand before anyone could make something of them. But the effect of what she had just watched was still sitting on her face in the particular stillness of someone who had seen something they could not unsee.Nathan sat at the defence table and looked at his own hands.His fingers had curled into his palms so tightly that the pressure of his own nails was biting into his skin. He did not loosen them. The rage sitting in his eyes was quiet and total and had been building for ten years and now had a shape and a face and a direction.He had just watched Abigail die.For the first time.The clip had given him what the night itself had not. The full truth of what happened in the minutes he was not there. He had spent years carryin
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