Chapter 125

Chapter 125

The interrogation room fell silent for a long time.

After Ryder finished speaking, he kept his head down, unable to meet Archibald's eyes.

Because he knew how heavy those words were.

If his suspicion was true, the blow to Archibald would be far greater than thirty-two lives and plummeting stock prices combined.

Those workers died beneath the building. He could repay them with his life, with money, with a lifetime of torment in guilt.

But if the person who sent him into this interrogation room was Vivienne, then he truly wouldn't even have the right to atone.

Because that would mean, in her heart, he was just like Allegra—an obstacle that needed to be removed.

Ryder didn't dare think further.

He bit his lip, lifted his head again, and tried to make his tone sound natural. "Mr. Carnegie, this is just my speculation. There's no evidence pointing to Mrs. Carnegie right now. It could've been nearby residents who heard the collapse and called the police. Could've been the construction crew's families who couldn't reach their loved ones. There are many possibilities. What I just said—you shouldn't..."

Archibald suddenly laughed. "Karma."

Ryder froze. "What?"

Archibald smiled bitterly.

This was all karma.

Though he never intended to harm Vivienne, he'd once indulged Allegra, destroying Vivienne's reputation and Innovate Design Studio's decades-long standing in one fell swoop.

Now his own fate was nothing more than a mirror of what they'd gone through.

What goes around comes around. This was only right.

"Ryder." Archibald took a deep breath and finally lifted his head. "Go find Sawyer."

Ryder's words caught in his throat instantly.

He stared at Archibald in disbelief.

He'd just laid everything out so clearly, and Archibald's response was still this.

"Mr. Carnegie!" Ryder's voice rose with urgency. "Are you even listening to me? If Mrs. Carnegie's side really did report this, it means she's prepared to drag you down with her to win this PR battle. You're asking me to help her now, but what if... what if we find out it really was her..."

"Then you help her even more." Archibald shook his head.

"If she really did report it, then she did the right thing." Archibald's voice was steady. "That project was Allegra's connection from the start. How many shady dealings are buried in it—I don't even dare say I know everything. She exposed this to seek justice for those workers and for herself. She did nothing wrong."

Ryder stared at him, dumbfounded.

"But..." He opened his mouth, searching for a counterargument. "But for you, this means..."

"What does it mean for me?" Archibald challenged.

His lips twisted into a bitter smile.

"I deserve this. I signed off on that project. I trusted Allegra. I'm complicit in every decision. Even if no one had reported it, this would've come out eventually. She's just carrying out justice."

He looked away from Ryder's face, staring down at the silver handcuffs around his wrists, as if talking to himself. "She must hate me completely."

Ryder suddenly fell silent.

"So go help her." Archibald lifted his head again. "Handle her case cleanly. No matter who reported it in the end, this stops here. Don't investigate another word."

Ryder remained silent for a long, long time.

He looked at the white hair at Archibald's temples, and something indescribable—sadness, maybe—welled up in his chest.

"Mr. Carnegie." He made one last attempt. "Even if you don't care about yourself, you have to think about the company. The Carnegie Group's stock has hit limit down. The board is in chaos. Several shareholders are already contacting lawyers to pull out. If you get sentenced to seven years at this critical moment, The Carnegie Group is finished. You're asking me to help Mrs. Carnegie—what about your side?"

"Didn't you say Sawyer's capable?" A rare hint of wryness crept into Archibald's tone. "Then have him help me too while he's at it. If he can put Allegra away, my liability in this case will lighten considerably."

Ryder looked at him. His lips moved several times, but in the end, he said nothing more.

He knew Archibald too well. Knew when to shut up.

He slowly stood, gathering the scattered documents on the table page by page, tucking them back into his briefcase.

Then he picked up the briefcase and headed for the door.

When he reached it, he suddenly stopped.

"Mr. Carnegie, I'll handle Mrs. Carnegie's case properly. For your side, I'll arrange the most suitable person to take over. But you have to promise me one thing."

Archibald didn't speak.

"Don't accept your fate." Ryder turned his head, glancing back at him. "If you accept your fate, this case is already lost."

With that, he pulled open the door and walked out without looking back.

The moment the door closed behind him, Ryder stood in the corridor, eyes closed, and took a deep breath.

Then he pulled out his phone, scrolled to a number, and dialed.

"Hello, it's me. Mr. Carnegie's case—I need you to take over."

On the other end of the city, Vivienne sat curled up on the bay window of her new apartment, flipping through a design book.

This was a unit her grandfather had purchased years ago. It had never been lived in and was now under her uncle's name, but he and his family had been abroad for years.

Because of that, the place was hard to trace.

After Archibald had barged into the Branpia Villa once, Preston had moved her here overnight.

The apartment was old—nothing like the new buildings going up these days—but Gemma had come ahead to clean. She'd changed the sheets and bedding, stocked the kitchen with Vivienne's favorite ingredients, and placed a few pots of pothos on the balcony.

Vivienne had been living here for over a week now.

Her days were simple. She'd wake up in the morning and eat a light breakfast prepared by the housekeeper. Then she'd sit by the bay window sketching. In the afternoon, she'd call Sawyer once to discuss the case's progress. In the evening, Sabrina would come by to chat and bring news from the outside world.

Her belly had grown noticeably rounder. She was starting to show.

The two little ones were quiet, causing her no trouble aside from the occasional bout of nausea.

Sometimes she'd press her palm against her stomach, feeling that faint warmth inside, before returning to her sketches.

Sawyer's call came at three in the afternoon.

"Ms. Branpia, something big has happened."

Vivienne's hand holding the pencil paused. "What is it?"

"Yesterday afternoon, a construction site in the eastern suburbs collapsed. A residential development project. The entire building under construction snapped in half. Workers underneath were buried alive. The confirmed death toll is thirty-two so far, with over a dozen critically injured in the hospital."

Vivienne's brows furrowed. "Which company's project?"