Chapter 191

Chapter 191
Harper

I stared at Officer Reeves across the table, watching his expression shift as he processed the news. The police station's interview room was sterile and cold—much like the reality I was presenting to him.

"I'm very sorry about Whitaker, Ms. Sinclair," he said, his weathered face genuinely sympathetic. "He was a powerful man. His death is... surprising, to say the least."

I nodded, letting the façade of grief play its part. Only a handful of people knew that Rowan was actually alive, hanging between life and death in a secure medical facility.

"Thank you, Officer Reeves. But we both know I'm not here about Rowan." I slid Serena's phone across the table. "I'm here because of this."

Reeves picked up the device cautiously. "Ever since those kidnapping suspects were murdered, I've been tracking this case personally. All signs pointed to Michael Blake, but the man's too slippery—too connected. We couldn't get anything concrete."

"Well, now you have something concrete." I tapped on the phone. "Serena Vaughn collected evidence against both Michael and Ryan Blake before she was murdered. The audio recording captures Ryan killing her, and the documents prove Michael's involvement in corporate sabotage, kidnapping, and attempted murder."

"And Ms. Vaughn's body?" Reeves asked, already reaching for his phone. "You said in your call you found her at the Blake estate."

"Secondary garage, maintenance alcove," I confirmed. "I left everything untouched, except for accessing her phone. She clearly died trying to expose them."

Reeves nodded and made a quick call, dispatching officers to secure the scene and ordering the medical examiner to prioritize this case. "I'm sending my best team," he assured me after hanging up. "They'll handle her with dignity, gather all the evidence."

He scrolled through the files, his eyebrows rising with each new piece of evidence. "This is... substantial. But why would Ms. Vaughn turn on them? She was clearly working with the Blakes before."

"She was protecting her son," I answered simply. "When she realized Michael would sacrifice anyone—including her child—for his vendetta, she changed sides."

Reeves nodded slowly. "I'll process this immediately, get forensics on Ms. Vaughn's body. But Ms. Sinclair..." He leaned forward, voice dropping. "Michael Blake has friends in every department of this city. Even with this evidence, he might wriggle out."

"Then we need to get him to confess," I said, my voice steady despite the fear churning in my stomach. "On record, without ambiguity."

"You're suggesting a sting?" Reeves frowned, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That's far too dangerous. You've already been kidnapped once. We can't risk—"

"Serena Vaughn died getting this evidence. I won't let her sacrifice be for nothing." I straightened in my chair, meeting his gaze directly. "I have children to protect, Officer Reeves. This ends now."

"Listen, Ms. Sinclair," Reeves put his glasses back on, leaning across the table. "I understand your determination, but Blake isn't an ordinary criminal. He'll smell a trap a mile away."

"That's precisely why we need bait he can't refuse," I insisted. "I know his weakness—pride and greed. If he thinks I've been frightened into submission, willing to abandon my investigation to protect my children, he won't be able to resist gloating."

After thirty minutes of arguing, Reeves reluctantly agreed to my plan. He didn't know that I'd have proceeded with or without his approval—but having law enforcement backup significantly improved our chances.

---

Two hours later, I sat in my car outside Blake Tower, reviewing the details one final time. My tech team had developed a quantum-based monitoring device—virtually undetectable by conventional security measures. It was disguised as a simple bracelet on my wrist, capable of recording audio and video without emitting traceable signals.

My phone buzzed. A message from Reeves: "Medical examiner confirms Blake DNA under victim's nails. Defensive wounds consistent with recording. Formal identification complete."

The clinical language did nothing to soften the reality: Serena was really gone. Despite our complicated past, a wave of sadness washed over me. She'd been many things—manipulative, ambitious, my rival—but in the end, she'd been a mother trying to protect her son, just as I would protect mine.

My pulse quickened as I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. The woman staring back at me looked composed, but inside I was a storm of fear and determination. I thought of Serena's face, remembered the price she paid for the truth, thought of my father's five years of suffering.

For them. For my children. I must succeed.

"We've got eyes on all exits," Reeves's voice came through my earpiece. "Teams are in position, but remember—we can only move once we have a clear confession."

"Understood." I took a deep breath, smoothed my dress, and stepped out of the car.

The night air was cool against my skin as I walked toward the imposing glass structure. Blake's security was thorough—the guard at the entrance scanned me for conventional recording devices but found nothing. The elevator ride to the top floor felt endless, each floor bringing me closer to facing the man who had orchestrated so much pain.

Michael Blake's office was dimly lit, a crystal decanter of whiskey prominently displayed on his desk. He rose when I entered, his smile not reaching his eyes.

"Harper Sinclair. What a pleasant surprise." He gestured toward a chair. "Please, sit. My condolences about Rowan. Such a... sudden tragedy."

I noted the anti-surveillance equipment blinking in the corner of his office. Blake was cautious, but not cautious enough.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, silhouetted against the city lights, creating an imposing figure. His eyes assessed me like a predator evaluating prey.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," I said, allowing a tremor to enter my voice. "After everything that's happened—Rowan, Serena—I'm afraid."

Blake poured himself a whiskey, not offering me one. "Fear is natural, Harper. But why come to me?"