Chapter 42 The Devil You Know

Chapter 42 The Devil You Know


POV: Elizabeth

The federal prison was exactly as cold and unwelcoming as I remembered from visiting Jessica—gray concrete walls, harsh fluorescent lighting, the smell of industrial cleaner barely masking something darker underneath.

I never thought I’d be back here. Especially not to ask a favor from the man who had orchestrated attacks on the people I loved.

“You don’t have to do this,” Royce said for the third time as we waited in the visitation room. “Marcus and I can handle Hendricks.”

“We’re in this together,” I said, squeezing his hand. “All of us. Besides, Hendricks might respond better to seeing all three of us. It shows we’re serious.”

Marcus paced near the window, his laptop bag clutched tight. “The guard said he’s being brought up now. Remember—let me do most of the talking at first. I’ve negotiated with criminals before.”

“He’s not just any criminal,” Royce said, his voice hard. “He’s the man who tried to kill me. Who nearly killed Elizabeth. Who put Jessica in prison.”

“Which is exactly why he’ll help us,” Marcus replied. “Helen betrayed him too. The enemy of our enemy—”

“Is a useful tool,” Royce cut in. “Not a friend.”

The door opened.

Richard Hendricks was escorted inside, his hands cuffed in front of him, an orange jumpsuit replacing his expensive tailored suits. He looked older than I remembered, grayer, prison carving years into his face in ways time alone never could.

But his eyes were the same.

Sharp. Calculating. Dangerous.

“Well, well,” Hendricks said as he sat across from us, a smile spreading across his face. “Royce Sterling in the flesh. And you brought your lovely girlfriend and her loyal friend. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“Cut the act,” Royce said coldly. “You know why we’re here.”

“Do I?” Hendricks leaned back, chains clinking. “Last I heard, you wanted me rotting in here for the rest of my life. Now you’re visiting. Things must be desperate.”

“We need information,” Marcus said, laying documents on the table. “About Helen Morrison.”

Hendricks’s smile widened. “Ah. Helen. Beautiful, brilliant, utterly ruthless Helen. What’s she done now?”

“She’s orchestrating a hostile takeover of Sterling Corp,” I said. “And she’s using threats against my family as leverage.”

Hendricks studied me with unsettling interest. “You’re the sister, right? The one who tried to play both sides and ended up here anyway?” He smirked. “I heard Jessica got attacked in prison. Terrible business.”

My stomach clenched. “What do you know about the attack?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” he said. “But I know Helen. And I know her methods.” He leaned forward. “So tell me—what exactly are you offering in exchange for my help?”

“Information for information,” Marcus replied. “We know Helen was your partner. We need evidence of her involvement that we can use without implicating Jessica.”

“And in exchange?” Hendricks asked.

Royce’s jaw tightened. “A recommendation for sentence reduction. Testimony at your appeal. Possibly clearing charges if we prove Helen was the primary actor.”

Hendricks laughed, delighted. “This is rich. Royce Sterling offering to help me. You must be truly desperate.”

“We are,” I said quietly. “Helen has my sister’s life in her hands. She has Royce’s company. We need a way out.”

“And you think I’m it?” Hendricks’s gaze sharpened. “What makes you think I won’t take your offer and give you nothing?”

“Because she betrayed you,” Marcus said. “Cut ties the moment you were arrested.”

Something dark flickered in Hendricks’s eyes. “Helen Morrison is many things. Loyal is not one of them.”

“Then help us destroy her,” Royce said. “Give us what we need.”

“Not good enough,” Hendricks replied. “I want a public apology. From you, Royce. On record.”

Royce stood abruptly. “That’s not happening.”

“You weren’t wrong about Helen,” Hendricks snapped. “But she’s free while I rot in here. She was the architect. I was her attack dog.”

“Then testify,” I said. “Help us put her here beside you.”

“Only if Royce apologizes.”

I touched Royce’s arm. “Sometimes you fight monsters with monsters.”

The pain in his eyes nearly broke me.

“Fine,” he said at last. “I’ll do it. But if you betray us—”

“No games,” Hendricks said smoothly. “Just business.”

He signaled for a tablet and pulled up files—emails, wire transfers, shell companies, strategy documents.

Marcus leaned in. “This is authentic. Metadata intact.”

“It will destroy her,” Hendricks said. “And one more thing—Jessica’s attack? That was Helen tying up loose ends. I had nothing to do with it.”

Rage flooded me.

“We need everything,” Royce said.

“You’ll get it,” Hendricks replied. “After the agreement and the apology.”

Marcus slid over the paperwork. Hendricks read it, nodded, then waited.

Royce activated his phone.

“My name is Royce Sterling,” he said flatly. “Helen Morrison was the primary architect of the conspiracy against Sterling Corp. Richard Hendricks acted largely under her direction.”

It wasn’t perfect. But it was enough.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Hendricks said.

As we left, he called after me. “Tell your sister I’m sorry.”

I didn’t respond.

In the car, silence stretched between us.

“We have everything we need,” Marcus finally said. “We can destroy Helen without implicating Jessica.”

Royce stared out the window. “It doesn’t feel like a victory.”

I took his hand. “You did what you had to do. That’s strength.”

We had the weapon.

Now we just had to use it—before Helen destroyed us first.