Chapter 4

Natalie's POV

In the interrogation room, the fluorescent bulb overhead hummed with a harsh, blinding glare.

I had been sitting there for twelve straight hours without a single drop of water.

"Natalie Hayes, I'll ask you one more time. Over the past two years, how did you orchestrate the offshore transfer of over forty million dollars?" The interrogator slammed his hand onto the metal table, his eyes boring into mine.

I lifted my head, my face paper-white, my voice hoarse yet eerily quiet. "I don't know. Before last night, I wasn't even the owner of Apex."

"You don't know?" The investigator scoffed, slamming a thick stack of documents in front of me. "This was just submitted by the Vance Corporation's legal department. It clearly bears your signature, confirming that all financial transactions were carried out under your personal directive! Are you still trying to deny it?"

My gaze fell upon the paperwork.

It was indeed my signature.

It was the very transfer agreement Julian had thrown at me in the back of the Maybach last night.

It turned out it wasn't just an ownership transfer. It was a signed confession.

Julian had scrubbed every trace of guilt off Chloe Sterling.

And left me to bear the entire weight of the crime alone.

"Natalie, digging your heels in won't do you any good," the investigator said, softening his tone slightly. "Confess voluntarily and cooperate with the state. That's your only way out."

I didn't answer.

I looked down at the raw red marks where the handcuffs dug into my wrists, and a low, dry laugh escaped my throat.

In the empty interrogation room, the sound was hauntingly desolate.

"I have nothing to confess." I closed my eyes, shutting out the last dying ember of light in my soul. "I signed what was put in front of me. Just sentence me."

The investigator frowned, clearly having never seen a suspect give up so quickly.

With irrefutable documentation and a suspect who refused to contest it, the paperwork moved with brutal efficiency.

Late that night, I was transferred to a holding cell in the county detention center.

The cell was damp and freezing, reeking of mildew and despair.

I was assigned a thin cot in the far corner.

The moment I lay down, several women who had been lounging quietly stood up and closed in on me.

The ringleader had cropped hair and venom in her eyes.

She stopped right before my cot, looking down at me with a sneer. "You Natalie Hayes?"

I eyed them warily. "What do you want?"

"Nothing personal. Just paid to do a job," the short-haired woman said, kicking my plastic water cup across the floor. "Someone on the outside sent word. Said Mrs. Vance is used to the high life, so we should make sure you feel right at home in here."

My stomach twisted into knots.

It couldn't be anyone other than Chloe Sterling.

Julian threw me in here to take the blame, and Chloe was seizing the chance to break me—or kill me.

"Get up! Go scrub the latrines!" The woman grabbed my collar, violently yanking me off the cot.

Weak and starved after twelve hours without food, the sudden jerk sent me crashing hard against the concrete floor.

My knees struck the stone, bruising instantly.

"No," I gritted out, glaring at her through the dark.

"Still think you're a billionaire's wife?" The woman barked a laugh and backhanded me across the face.

My head snapped to the side, warm blood instantly trickling from the corner of my mouth.

"Beat her! Teach her some manners!"

The women swarmed me, fists and heavy boots raining down on my body like hail.

I didn't scream for help. I knew that in a place where Chloe could bribe the guards, screaming would only invite worse brutality.

I curled into a tight ball, wrapping my arms around my vitals, biting my lip raw to keep from crying out.

The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

I didn't know how long it lasted before the beating finally stopped.

The short-haired woman spat on the ground and signaled the others away. "Whenever you learn your place, the beatings stop."

I lay on the freezing concrete, every bone in my body screaming in agony.

The night rain was still pounding outside, the muffled rumble filtering through the high barred window, bone-chilling and bleak.

With great effort, I dragged myself up against the damp wall.

My forehead was burning. A fever had set in.

In the haze of delirium and unbearable pain, fragments of the past three years flashed through my mind.

I remembered our wedding day, how Julian had slipped the ring onto my finger with cold detachment, saying, "You are merely Mrs. Vance. There will never be any real feelings between us."

I remembered countless late nights, keeping the foyer light on waiting for him, only to be greeted by the scent of another woman's perfume lingering on his suit.

For three whole years, it had all been my pathetic, one-sided delusion.

The following afternoon, delirious with fever, I was summoned by a guard.

"Natalie Hayes. Visitor."

Dragging my heavy, aching limbs, I walked toward the visiting room.

Deep down, a pathetic ember of hope still flickered.

Was it Julian?

Had he discovered that his legal team abandoned me? Had he found out what they were doing to me in here, and come to take me home?

Behind the glass divider, I lifted my head.

The man sitting on the other side wasn't Julian.

It was Julian's personal assistant, Leo.

Leo looked at me, a flash of pure shock crossing his features.

After only two days in lockup, the once graceful, quiet woman was stripped of all life.

The left side of my face was terribly swollen, the corner of my lip caked with dried purple blood. Sweat beaded continuously on my burning forehead, and I was trembling like a withered leaf in the autumn wind.

"Where is Julian?" I asked, my voice scraping out like sandpaper.

"Mr. Vance is in an executive meeting." Leo avoided my eyes, pulling a document from his briefcase. "Ma'am, Mr. Vance asked me to bring this to you."

I squinted, struggling through the blur to make out the words.

It was a formal plea agreement.

Leo's voice crackled through the intercom. "Ms. Sterling's art exhibition is tomorrow. As long as you sign this plea, the case will be closed immediately."

"Leo," I interrupted him.

My voice wasn't loud, but it held a terrifying, hollow stillness.

"Does he know what I've been going through in here?" I stared at Leo, the very last trace of light in my eyes snuffing out forever.