Chapter 135

Chapter 135

"Mr. Carnegie." After a moment of silence, Lloyd couldn't help but ask, "Don't you want to get out sooner?"

Archibald smiled bitterly and sighed. "I do. I think about it every day. But my case is my case. Her safety is her safety. Those two things shouldn't have any causal relationship."

Lloyd fell completely silent.

A moment later, he flipped to the last page of the file and placed it in front of Archibald. "All right. I'll deliver the message."

Archibald nodded, then suddenly said something that surprised Lloyd even more.

"Mr. Wallace, help me with one more thing. That East Suburb project—from inception to construction, every document related to Allegra, pull it all from the company. Approval records, email correspondence, meeting minutes, every single file she signed. Organize everything chronologically. Some materials are in the company archive—my assistant knows where. The rest are with Ryder. He has a batch of scanned files from when he did due diligence."

Lloyd froze slightly. "Mr. Carnegie, if we pull those materials, for your case..."

"I know." Archibald cut him off. "Some of those materials might help me. But a significant portion will prove that I signed off on her proposals at critical junctures. I'll be in a worse position. The prosecution will have evidence that I knew and allowed it. My sentencing recommendation will likely jump from three years to seven. You don't have to tell me—I already know."

Lloyd was even more shocked. "You know and you still..."

"But this isn't a multiple-choice question." Archibald interrupted again. "That building collapsed. Thirty-two people died. They can't die for nothing. Exactly how much Allegra manipulated in that project—those facts must be uncovered. Not because it might reduce my sentence. Because the victims' families have the right to know the truth. What I signed, I'll own. What I didn't do, I won't carry for her."

Lloyd didn't know whether to feel admiration or despair.

Archibald's rationality was clearer than anyone he'd ever encountered in this profession. So clear it felt cruel.

He was merciless with himself—so merciless he wouldn't even bother leaving himself an escape route.

"Understood." Lloyd gathered his documents and stood.

"One more thing." Archibald added before Lloyd could turn away. "My wife's case—the plagiarism evidence chain. Ryder's almost finished compiling it. Have Sawyer coordinate with Ryder to expedite the copyright infringement process. Vivi's posting her final sketches and personal statement tonight. Public opinion has hit its peak. We can't miss the timing to release the evidence."

Lloyd nodded, picked up his briefcase, and headed for the door.

At the threshold, he couldn't help pausing again.

After considering for a moment, he asked, "Mr. Carnegie, is there anything you'd like me to tell your wife?"

Archibald suddenly clenched his fists.

He had so much he wanted to say. One hundred thirty-seven text messages hadn't been enough. Even now, they still weren't.

But every word that rose to his lips became the same sentence.

Please be well.

"No need. Whatever she wants to say, Sawyer and Sabrina will relay it. I don't want her to feel like I'm using you to pressure her." Archibald shook his head with a bitter smile. "Letting her feel like I don't exist in this world—that's the only thing I can do for her right now."

Lloyd fell silent for a moment, pulled open the door, and walked out without looking back.

At 7:50 p.m., Vivienne sat down at the desk right on schedule.

Sabrina sat beside her. The backend management interface for the social media platform was already open. Now they were just waiting for Vivienne's word.

"All the images are formatted. The text has been proofread. Everything's uploading with the evidence package." Sabrina glanced up at her. "Ready?"

Vivienne looked down at the final set of sketches in her portfolio.

She'd drawn them in the apartment where she'd been imprisoned. A vast, empty field. A tree bent by the wind. A faint light on the distant horizon.

At the time, she hadn't known whether that light was dawn or dusk. But now she knew.

It was dawn.

"Post it." She said.

Sabrina hit send.

A progress bar appeared on the screen, jumping from zero to one hundred percent in less than two seconds.

But to Vivienne, those two seconds felt longer than any moment in the past three months.

For an instant, she almost felt like her life was flashing before her eyes. So many scenes from the past surfaced in her mind.

Only when the progress bar completed did she snap back to herself.

She'd finally reclaimed her name.

The moment the final sketches went live, the backend analytics went wild.

Shares were breaking a thousand per minute. Comment notifications chimed in an endless cacophony. Finally, Sabrina had to mute it.

At the same time, the follower count began skyrocketing.

Every refresh sent the number up by thousands.

Sabrina held up her phone, reading the comments aloud one by one.

"Someone posted a long thread breaking down Allegra's plagiarism timeline. It's already been shared over ten thousand times."

"This comparison image does a frame-by-frame match between her designs and your sketches. The details are identical."

"A journalist contacted Sawyer for an exclusive interview. They're publishing tonight."

As she read, her voice suddenly caught. "Vivi, everyone's speaking up for you."

Vivienne leaned over to look at Sabrina's phone screen.

Comments flooded the screen like a tidal wave. This time, every single comment mentioned her name—Vivienne.

Not Mrs. Carnegie. Vivienne.

Her name was being typed out letter by letter by countless strangers, as if they were picking up all those lost years for her, piece by piece.

Vivienne's eyes suddenly stung with tears.

"Now there's just one last step." Sabrina suddenly turned to her. "Once we catch Allegra... Vivi, don't cry."