I came home two hours early and caught my fiancée beating our maid—but she froze when I told her every second had been recorded.

Three months later.

The afternoon sun streamed through the expansive glass windows of the newly renovated headquarters of Vance Technologies in Santa Monica.

The company had undergone a complete restructuring. Arthur Pendelton and six compromised board members had been removed and faced criminal trial, while an independent ethics board was instituted to oversee all corporate transactions.

Inside my corner office, the atmosphere was quiet and productive.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," I called out, setting my tablet down on the desk.

Mia walked in, dressed in a sharp, tailored business suit, carrying a tablet and a stack of financial reports. Over the past three months, she had completed an intensive corporate management course funded by the firm and had officially stepped into her new role as the Director of Corporate Ethics and Domestic Operations.

"The quarterly audit report is complete, Mr. Vance," Mia said with a warm, confident smile, placing the folder on my desk. "Zero discrepancies across all departments."

"I expected nothing less, Mia," I smiled, gesturing for her to take a seat. "And please, stop calling me Mr. Vance. It's Daniel."

Mia laughed softly, taking a seat across from me. "Force of habit, Daniel."

I looked out the window at the Pacific Ocean glistening in the distance. "How are you adjusting to the new apartment in Venice Beach?"

"It's incredible," she said quietly, her eyes bright with genuine happiness. "For the first time in my life, I wake up in the morning without fear. I don't have to look over my shoulder."

"You earned every bit of it, Mia," I said sincerely. "What you did that day... most people would have backed down."

"I grew up watching powerful people push around people who had no voice, Daniel," Mia said softly. "When I saw those papers in your study, and when I realized what Victoria was planning to do to you... I couldn't let another good person be destroyed."

My assistant stepped into the office, holding a file. "Mr. Vance, a letter just arrived from the federal correctional facility in Victorville."

I knew who it was from without opening it. Victoria had sent four letters over the past twelve weeks, begging for a visit, asking for forgiveness, and pleading with me to use my influence to secure her a reduced sentence.

I took the envelope, pulled out my desk drawer, and dropped it into the shredder without opening it.