She pauses at the door, looking back at me with something that might be pity. "That's what you need to figure out, isn't it? Who benefits from my father taking the fall for this theft?"
The question hits hard because she's right—someone does benefit from Richard Quinn being labeled a traitor. Someone gets away with five million of my money.
"And another thing," Hannah says, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "If you think what happened between us last night means I belong to you, think again. You'll never have me again. Never. I don't know who you are, but I know you're not the man I thought you were."
The words cut deeper than any knife. "Hannah?—"
"You're a monster," she says quietly. "And I was an idiot for forgetting that."
She leaves, closing the door behind her with quiet finality. I'm left alone with my doubts and the evidence that suddenly looks a lot less convincing than it did an hour ago.
I know she's right about me being a monster. I've never pretended otherwise, never tried to be anything other than what this world made me. I've killed men with my own hands and ordered deaths without losing sleep. I’ve built an empire on fear and violence.
But for some reason, hearing it from her lips feels like a verdict I can't bear.
A knock on the door interrupts my brooding. Bogdan enters without waiting for permission.
"I saw Hannah leaving," he says, settling into the chair across from my desk. "She looked upset."
I gesture at my bloody clothing.
"Ah." Bogdan nods sympathetically. "Civilian women aren't built for the realities of our world. Perhaps it's time to consider other arrangements for her."
The suggestion makes my blood run cold. "What kind of arrangements?"
"Nothing permanent," he says quickly. "Just... relocation. Somewhere more suitable for someone with her sensibilities."
"She stays here."
"Of course." Bogdan spreads his hands. "Your call entirely. I was just thinking about what might be best for everyone involved."
"What did you want to report?"
His expression grows serious. "More evidence against Quinn. I'm afraid you're not going to like it."
He produces another folder, this one thicker than the previous ones. More bank records, more transaction logs, more proof of Richard Quinn's supposed guilt.
"This confirms everything we already suspected," Bogdan says. "Richard has been stealing from us for a very long time. The evidence is overwhelming."
I study the documents, but Hannah's voice echoes in my head. Too clean, too perfect, too much like what someone would create if they wanted to frame an innocent man.
"Where did you get this information?" I ask.
"Our contacts at the banks. The same sources we've always used."
"And you verified it personally?"
"Of course." Bogdan looks offended by the question. "Every transaction, every timestamp, every signature. It's all legitimate."
But is it? Or is it just more manufactured evidence designed to convince me that an innocent man deserves to die?
"I want independent verification," I say finally.
"What?"
"Independent verification. From sources outside our usual network. "
Bogdan's expression shows his irritation. "That could take time. And it might alert Quinn to our investigation."
