“Ms. Maya Fisher,” Michael says, his voice clipped and businesslike. “You’re under arrest for wire fraud, theft of trade secrets, and insider trading. We have a warrant.”
She blinks, stammering. “There must be some mistake—”
“There’s no mistake, ma’am. Please step aside.”
Michael and a second agent move past her, stepping into the apartment. The third agent reaches for her wrists.
“What are you doing?!” she gasps, recoiling. “You can’t just—there’s been a misunderstanding!”
He spins her around. The sharp click of the cuffs cuts through her panic as he begins reading her rights.
“Please—this has to be a mistake!” she insists again, her voice rising, breathless with panic now.
I lean against the wall at the end of the hallway, hands in my pockets, watching the show.
“No misunderstanding,” I murmur to myself. “Just sloppy work.”
Michael steps out of the apartment with the other agent, carrying sealed evidence bags—Maya’s phone, her laptop, and a stack of files.
He stops and drops a pair of flats at her feet.
“Put these on,” he says flatly. “We’re not waiting.”
They start guiding her toward the elevators, reciting the standard procedure.
She’s still pleading, her voice wavering as she demands a lawyer.
I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over the shutter button.
Just before they step into the elevator, I call out. Casual. Bright. “Hey, Maya!”
She freezes, snapping her head toward me.
“Smile.”
Her eyes widen, her mouth falls open—shock and pure disbelief painted across her face—and I capture it perfectly.
“Absolute cinema,” I whisper, checking the screen.
“Who the hell are you?!” she screams, just as the doors slide shut. Cutting off her voice with a heavy metallic thud.
I glance down at the photo, admiring the irony in every pixel. The panic. The ruin.
I laugh under my breath.
“The best friend of the woman you tried to destroy,” I say to the empty hallway. “And you didn’t even come close to breaking her.”
I stare at the closed elevator doors for a beat longer.
I’d kept my distance at first. I didn’t even try something as petty as bricking her laptop remotely. I told myself it wasn’t my place.Be fair, I thought. Colin was the one who broke his vows, not her.
But then she went after Cecily.
She hurt the kids.
That ridiculous article—the one that tried to paint her as some Shakespearean tragic heroine and twist everything into a sob story—that was the line.
I watched Alicia and Ethan cry that day, their whole world falling apart.
