“Emily.”
One of the CID agents, a woman named Special Agent Price, stood beside me with a tablet in hand.
“You don’t have to speak to him,” she said.
“I know.”
Ryan pressed one palm against the table. “Please. Just let me explain.”
I opened the folder and placed one page against the glass.
His forged version of my signature stared back at him.
His eyes dropped to it, then slid away.
“You signed my name,” I said.
His mouth trembled. “Mom said—”
He stopped.
I leaned closer. “Say it.”
He swallowed.
“Mom said you were going to abandon us.”
“Us?”
His eyes flicked up, desperate now. “Me. Her. The life we built.”
“The life I funded.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No,” I said. “Fair ended when I woke up with my head shaved.”
He flinched as though I had shouted.
“I didn’t know she was going to do that,” he whispered.
“But you let her.”
“I was angry.”
“You were afraid.”
His jaw tightened.
There. The small vanity survived.
“Afraid of what?” I asked. “My promotion? My command? My name on a door?”
His face twisted. “You changed.”
“No,” I said. “You noticed.”
For a second, his eyes filled with hatred so naked that even Agent Price shifted her stance. Then the look vanished behind panic.
“You don’t understand what she’ll do,” Ryan said quickly. “You think this is about money, but it isn’t. Not really.”
