Chapter 2

"The evidence chain is incomplete, and too much time has passed. It's going to be very difficult to file a case."

Inside the police station, the young officer shook his head, looking through the materials I'd provided.

I sat on the cold chair, unable to say a word.

My mind replayed the last five years.

To put Chloe through the best law school overseas, I worked three jobs a day.

Daytime construction, dishwashing at a restaurant at night, and then late-night food delivery shifts.

She suffered from severe PTSD, waking up screaming from nightmares almost every night.

I would hold her, comfort her.

I thought I'd pulled her from the abyss.

I never knew she'd turn around and willingly jump back in.

The interrogation room door swung open.

Chloe walked in, followed by a formidable team of lawyers.

Her face was perfectly made up, devoid of all emotion, her eyes cold as if looking at a stranger.

She placed a document on the table before me, her voice icy.

"Alex, I'm Mr. Sterling's attorney. You must retract this false accusation and issue a public apology. This is malicious prosecution."

I looked up, my voice trembling.

"Chloe, have you forgotten what you told me on that rooftop five years ago? You said you'd make sure men like Blake faced justice! That you'd use the law to protect others like you!"

Chloe looked at me, a mocking smirk on her lips.

"People have to move on, Alex."

She paused, a hint of pity even gracing her features.

"Blake's father has promised to invest thirty million dollars into my law firm if I make this problem disappear. Do you know what that means? It means I can instantly become one of the top lawyers in the industry."

I felt my blood slowly turn to ice.

"So, your success means being his lapdog?"

SLAP!

A sharp, stinging slap landed hard on my face.

My cheek burned.

Chloe's hand trembled, her chest heaving. My words had clearly enraged her.

"What do you know?! This is a shortcut! A shortcut someone like you, who'll spend their entire life struggling in the trenches, will never understand!"

She pulled a black bank card from her designer Hermès bag and threw it on the table in front of me.

"There's half a million in there. Consider it payment for the last five years. From today on, we're even."

I stared at the cold card and laughed.

Then I forcefully snapped the card in two.

I stood up and said.

"Chloe. We're not even. You owe me. And I'll make sure you pay it back, with interest."

The officer, having finished his current task, walked over to me.

"We've processed your report. Regarding your alleged malicious prosecution, there's currently insufficient evidence. You're free to go. We'll contact you if needed."

I stood up, pushed my chair back, and walked out of the police station without a backward glance.