Chapter 004

"You may leave, Jemma."

I was both horrified and relieved by the finality of the words as they hung in the prison's antiseptic air. I briefly believed I had misheard them. I couldn't really hear the guard's icy, uncaring voice because I was too distracted by everything that had transpired over the previous few weeks. However, my daze was broken by the slam of the cell door opening. Unsure of how to react to the news that had just fallen into my lap, I blinked, my eyes wide.

"Free?" I said to myself in a whisper. It sounded ridiculous. Was I free after all of this—the deception, the treachery, the months I spent in this hellhole? It isn't possible. After being wrongfully accused, forgotten, and rejected, I was now... free?

"Jemma Wilson," the guard said again in a frustrated tone. "You must sign your release documents and leave. You won't be given another opportunity at this."

As I walked approached the door, the ground felt shaky underfoot. My thoughts whirled over everything I had lost and everything I had left behind. But self-pity was not an option. It was time to go on with my life; I had spent too much time reflecting on the past.

I felt like I was being slapped in the face by the cold air outside. I remained there for a time, blinking to avoid the severity of it. The world appeared to be considerably larger than I had recalled. It felt almost alien to me to be free after spending so much time caged up in that jail.

I had no idea where I was going. In one harsh blow, my old life was gone. I was destroyed by Damien and Alina, the people I had previously trusted. My family's fortune, my reputation, and even my personal feeling of value were all gone. Layer by layer, everything had been destroyed, leaving me only a shell of the person I once was.

Nevertheless, I was free to stand here.

I looked down at my phone, a shabby device I hadn't touched in months. The majority of the innumerable emails, missed calls, and texts were from folks I didn't want to hear from. As soon as Damien's name appeared on the screen, my heart began to hurt.

I was unable to force myself to open it. I wasn't interested in his excuses or apologies. There was more to what I needed and what I wanted than his meaningless words. Justice was what I needed. I required retribution.

The idea struck me like a lightning strike. I had had enough of being a helpless victim.

I turned my back on the street and put the phone back in my pocket. Although I had no idea where I was heading, I was certain that I would not simply disappear into the background. Yes, I would recreate my life on my own terms. And I would require more than a fresh start for that. Those who had harmed me would have to be destroyed. Alina and Damien were held accountable for their actions.

The more I considered it, the more determined I became. I would discover the truth. They would regret ever believing they could get away with this when I exposed them.

However, where do I begin?

I wandered aimlessly for a while, my mind racing. I had always taken great satisfaction in being in charge and knowing exactly where I was going. I felt like a stranger in my own life today, though, after everything.

I required information. I required allies.

And I knew just where to go for it.

I remembered the office as elegant and intimidating. Floor-to-ceiling windows, dark mahogany furnishings, and the subtle aroma of pricey cologne that permeated the entire space. This was my grandfather's legacy—the spot where I used to walk with pride and a straight head. The world I had just left behind was not the same as this one.

Now that I was inside, though, it felt empty. Everything that had been constructed was a falsehood, a front that had fallen apart as soon as I was unfairly imprisoned.

When I walked up to the receptionist, she was staring at her computer screen and didn't even look up. I didn't waste time making small talk.

I said in a bland voice, "I need to see the head of the firm."

She paused for a second, as though she was about to ignore me like the others had. Her eyes narrowed, though, as a glimmer of recognition went through her.

"Are you scheduled to do anything?"

I said calmly, "I don't need one." "Just let him know that Jemma Wilson is present."

With her fingers already typing something onto the computer, the receptionist nodded despite her eyes flickering. She said, "Give me a minute," and then she picked up the phone.

I crossed my arms as I stood there impatiently tapping my foot. The icy rush of adrenaline that I had experienced when I initially sensed I was being framed was beginning to return. Now was the moment to take charge.

With a gentle click, the door behind the receptionist's desk opened, and a man I hadn't seen before emerged.

As though she were in awe of him, the receptionist said, "Mr. Alexander Blackwood," with a faint trembling in her voice.

I turned to face the towering, broad-shouldered person in front of me. His dark, penetrating eyes and sharp features could have been those of any character in a corporate thriller. The pinnacle of riches and authority, he wore a fitted suit. Despite this, there was something about the way he gazed at me that gave the impression that he was more than simply a stranger. He was completely aware of it.

"I assume you're Jemma Wilson?" He had a smooth, controlled voice with a hint of sharpness.

I nodded while trying to keep my cool and my heart pounding. "I need your assistance."

He gazed at me for a long time, examining my face as though he was deciding if I was worth his time. I had anticipated that he would reject me and claim that I wasn't his issue. Instead, though, he just moved out of the way so I could go into the office.

"Enter," he said.

I gave him a sidelong glance before moving on. I hesitated for a moment

because of the way he handled himself. Something that made me think he

wasn't your average businessman. He had another side, something more sinister, more cunning.

Once we were both sat at his desk, I started, "You'll find this hard to believe, but I need your resources." Your contacts.

He didn't flinch or blink. With an incomprehensible expression, he regarded me as his fingers beat lightly on the desk.

"Why should I assist you?" His tone was low, almost derisive, as he asked.

"Because you and I both know there's more to this story than what's been told," I replied, bending forward.

Intrigued, he raised an eyebrow. "You think your little personal drama matters to me?"

I looked him in the eye and said, "I think you care about the truth," without flinching. The fact is that certain people must be brought to their knees. And you might be the one to assist me in doing so.

Something flickered across his eyes for the first time, maybe curiosity. He said, his tone a little more solemn, "I'll bite." "But make it worthwhile for me."

I inhaled deeply as my determination solidified. It was the only path I had, even though I knew it wouldn't be simple.

And I might have a shot if I had Alexander Blackwood on my side.

I felt a wave of clarity come over me as soon as I left his office. I was no longer only a victim. I wasn't helpless.

I was prepared for battle.

However, a text message appeared on my phone as I was making my way to the elevator.

Damien sent it.

"I must see you. I have to give an explanation.

I went cold. Everything seemed to slow down around me.

Now, what could he possible desire?