The Real Puppet Master

Calloway's investigation team worked through the night. By morning, they had answers. We sat in his home office, documents spread across the desk. Bank statements. Phone records. Email trails. All pointing to one name. Gregory Winters. Natasha's father. "He's been funding everything." Calloway's voice was flat. Cold. "Every payment to Damien. Every forged document. Every manipulation. It all traces back to him." I stared at the papers. At the highlighted transactions. Hundreds of thousands of dollars flowing from offshore accounts into Damien's name. "Why?" The question came out barely above a whisper. "Why would he do this?" Calloway pulled up another file on his laptop. Turned the screen toward me. "Three years ago, I acquired a tech startup. Small company. Promising patent

Last Updated : 2026-02-10

Legal Warfare

The conference room was sterile. Cold. All glass and chrome and expensive furniture that did nothing to ease the tension. Depositions had begun. Gregory Winters sat across from us, flanked by three lawyers in thousand-dollar suits. His expression was calm. Almost pleasant. Like this was just another business meeting. I wanted to scream. Calloway sat beside me, his hand resting on my thigh under the table. Steady. Grounding. Our lawyer, Thomas Chen—no relation to Richard—sat on my other side. Papers stacked in front of him. Evidence organized. Ready. "Let's begin." The mediator, a stern woman named Judge Patricia Morrison, looked over her glasses at both sides. "Mr. Winters, you're suing Mr. and Mrs. Sterling for five hundred million dollars. Defamation, emotional distress, and destruction of property. Is that correct?" "Yes, Your Honor."

Last Updated : 2026-02-11

The Time Travel Question

The silence in the conference room stretched too long. Every eye was on me. Waiting. Judging. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." I forced my voice to stay steady. "Time travel? Are we in a science fiction novel, Mr. Winters?" Gregory's smile didn't waver. "Then explain the inconsistencies." "There are no inconsistencies. I did my research. I hired investigators. I protected myself." I looked directly at Judge Morrison. "Mr. Winters is grasping at straws because he knows the evidence against him is overwhelming. So he's resorted to conspiracy theories." "Conspiracy theories based on witness testimony," Davidson interjected. "Multiple people have reported your impossible knowledge—" "Multiple people who are either in prison or facing charges themselves." Thomas stood. "Damien Anderson is a murderer. Natasha Winters is ment

Last Updated : 2026-02-12

Confession

I couldn't hold it in anymore. The weight of the secret. The lies. The constant fear that someone would discover the truth. Gregory already knew. Or suspected. And now Calloway was asking questions I couldn't deflect. "I died." The words came out barely above a whisper. Calloway went still. "What?" "At the gender reveal party. In my previous timeline. Damien pushed me down the stairs." My voice shook. "I bled out at the bottom. Watched him and Sienna stand there and do nothing. And then everything went black." He stared at me. Silent. Processing. "When I woke up, I was in bed. Three days before the party. Three days before it all happened." Tears streamed down my face. "I thought I was going crazy. But the date was real. The calendar was real. Everything was exactly as it had been three days earlier."

Last Updated : 2026-02-13

Arrest

The holding cell was cold. Sterile. Gray concrete walls and metal benches that dug into my spine. I sat alone. Handcuffs removed but the weight of them still felt present on my wrists. They'd separated us immediately. Calloway in one cell. Me in another. No communication. No explanation beyond the charges read at Marcus's apartment. Fraud. Conspiracy. The words echoed in my head. A female officer appeared at the bars. "Mrs. Sterling. You have a visitor." "My lawyer?" "CPS caseworker." My blood went cold. "What?" The officer unlocked the cell. Led me down a hallway to a small interview room. A woman sat at the metal table. Middle-aged. Kind eyes but firm expression. A manila folder in front of her. "Mrs. Sterling. I'm Jennifer Hayes fr

Last Updated : 2026-02-14

Jail Survival

The attack came in the shower. I'd been in holding for three days. Three days of cold concrete, stale food, and sleepless nights counting ceiling tiles. Thomas had warned me to stay alert. To watch my back. But I hadn't expected it so soon. The communal shower was empty when I entered. Just me and the sound of running water echoing off tile walls. I should have known better. I was rinsing shampoo from my hair when I heard footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. I turned. Three women blocked the exit. All older. Harder. With scars and tattoos that told stories of violence. "You're Sterling's wife," the tallest one said. Not a question. I backed against the wall. "I don't want trouble." "Too bad. Trouble found you." She moved closer. Water from the showerhead sprayed

Last Updated : 2026-02-15