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Chapter 22: Sabotage at Dawn
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2025-12-16 08:02:33The sound of breaking glass yanked Brandon out of sleep.
He bolted upright, heart pounding, the faint glow of dawn bleeding through the blinds. It took a second to realize where he was—the small office above the coffee shop, not the penthouse he used to own. The air smelled faintly of dust, stale coffee, and something metallic.
Then he heard it again—a crunch underfoot.
“Julia?” His voice was low, wary.
No answer. Just the echo of the storm drain outside and the distant hum of the city waking up. He slipped on his jacket, stepping into the narrow hallway. When he reached the office, his chest tightened. The door hung open, hinges twisted.
Inside, papers littered the floor. The whiteboard was smeared wi
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The HR tribunal room smelled of polished wood and fear.Julia sat at the end of a long glass table, three executives facing her like a firing squad. Their expressions were polite masks stretched over cruelty. Her palms were damp, but her voice—when she finally spoke—was steady.“You’re accusing me of breaching confidentiality,” she said. “But what I did was tell the truth. Hughes Corp falsified internal audits. The man you’re calling a criminal tried to expose that.”One of the executives leaned back, tapping a pen against the table. “Miss Bailey, you’re emotionally compromised. Everyone knows your... connection to Brandon Hughes.”Julia’s jaw tightened. “My connection,” she said quietly,
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The metallic clang of the cell door echoed like judgment. Brandon sat on the edge of the narrow cot, elbows on his knees, staring at the cold concrete floor. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, a single harsh note in an otherwise suffocating silence. His hands still smelled faintly of ink from the fingerprint station. Each print, each form, felt like a mark of how far he’d fallen.The headlines had been merciless. Corporate Criminal. Hughes Scion Arrested. They didn’t care about truth—only blood.He rubbed the back of his neck, jaw tight. It wasn’t fear gnawing at him. It was something worse—regret. For ever
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By the time the sun broke through the city haze, Brandon’s name was back on every newsfeed. Hughes Scion Confesses to Corporate Sabotage. The headline glared from every screen in the precinct lobby, his photo—a still from some long-forgotten gala—staring back at him with that familiar polished arrogance.Inside, Brandon sat calmly at a steel interrogation table, sleeves rolled up, eyes unreadable. He didn’t look like a man cornered; he looked like a man waiting.The door slammed open. Julia stepped in, breathless, fury and fear clashing in her gaze. “Are you insane?”He lifted his head, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Good morning to you too.”“Don’t do that,” she snapped, voice trembling. “Don’t act like this is just another game. You confessed, Brandon. They’re already spinning this—saying you orchestrated the sabotage yourself to hide your crimes.”“That’s what I wanted them to think.” His tone was steady, deliberate. “James will panic now. He doesn’t know what I know—or who
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The door hung half open.Brandon’s stomach dropped the moment he saw it—the splintered wood, the faint buzz of a broken light flickering from inside Julia’s apartment. The hallway smelled of dust and something metallic. His pulse thundered as he shoved the door fully open.“Julia?” His voice cracked the silence.The sight gutted him. Papers littered the floor like fallen feathers. Drawers overturned. Her living room—once neat, soft, and warm—looked like a battlefield. On the far wall, painted in black spray, were two words that made his blood run cold: STAY QUIET.A soft sob came from the corner.“Brandon…”
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The crash of glass cut through the silence.Brandon’s coffee mug shattered against the motel wall, dark liquid bleeding down faded wallpaper. Julia flinched but didn’t move. The smell of burnt coffee mixed with anger and exhaustion, thick in the air.“You think I’m that stupid?” His voice came low, rough. “You’re the only one who had the drive. You gave it to me—and now it’s corrupted?”Her eyes widened. “You think I did this?”“I think it’s convenient,” he snapped, pacing. “James gets what he wants, and somehow, the only evidence that could save me just… dies in your hands.”“Careful, Brandon.” Her voice trembled, but not from fear. From disbelief. “You’re accusing the only person still standing beside you.”He raked a hand through his hair, jaw tight. “I can’t afford to be naïve anymore.”She stared at him, tears threatening but never falling. “No, you just can’t afford to trust anymore.”The words hit harder than the mug had.He turned away, fists clenched. “You don’t get it. Every
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The news broke before sunrise.Brandon’s name glared across every digital screen, every news ticker, every phone in the city: “Disgraced Heir Turns Fraudster – Police Investigate Former Hughes Executive.”By the time he reached for the remote, it was already too late. The headline was everywhere. The world had decided his guilt before the law ever could.He hurled the remote across the room. It hit the peeling motel wallpaper with a dull thud and fell into silence. The TV flickered on, replaying footage of him escorted out of his office during the raid. His jaw clenched as he watched himself on screen—a villain edited for the public’s consumption.“Public enemy number one,” he muttered, bitter laughter crac
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