The card.
William’s card.
A collective breath moved through the room.
Alice nearly collapsed with relief.
Cynthia’s face drained of color.
“It must have slipped in there,” she said weakly.
“No,” Chief Maxwell said.
Just one word. Calm. Final.
“You were humiliated,” he said. “So you decided to destroy a worker.”
William stared at Cynthia in disbelief.
Chief Maxwell’s gaze hardened. “You were prepared to send an innocent woman to jail because your pride was wounded.”
Then he said the words Cynthia clearly never imagined she would hear:
“Apologize.”
She looked at Alice as if the very idea disgusted her.
Chief Maxwell did not blink.
“We have the footage,” he said. “If I choose, I can file a police report tonight. And let me remind you—your family’s company does business with mine. Those relationships can be reviewed immediately.”
Then, even more quietly, he added, “Being rich—or standing near rich people—does not make you better than anyone else.”
At last, Cynthia turned to Alice and forced the words through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry.”
Alice said nothing. Her body was still shaking. Innocence did not erase fear. It only replaced one kind with another.
Then William finally spoke.
“Cynthia.”
His voice was cold enough to stop her.
“This is your true character.”
She looked at him in panic. “Baby, no—”
“I excused you too many times,” he said. “I told myself you were spoiled, immature, careless. But tonight you tried to destroy someone’s life because you were embarrassed.”
She reached for him. He pulled away.
“Give me the ring.”
Cynthia froze.
“What?”
“The engagement ring,” William said. “Give it to me.”
The room held its breath.
She tried to argue, to minimize it, to call it “something small.”
William’s reply was simple.
“Trying to send a working woman to jail is not small.”
At last, with trembling fingers, Cynthia removed the ring and placed it on the table.
Leave a Comment