Chapter 6 - The Turning of the Tide
The penthouse apartment was beautiful, filled with expensive minimalist furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river. But today, the air inside was thick with tension and the smell of stale take-out food.
Blythe sat on her plush white sofa, her knees pulled to her chest. She looked a shadow of her former self. The designer maternity dresses had been replaced by oversized grey sweatpants, and her long blonde hair was tied in a messy, greasy bun.
When the door opened and I walked in, flanked by Arthur and two federal agents, she flinched as if she had been struck.
"Vivienne," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You... you can't be here. The court order..."
"The court order allows me to visit at any time to assess the welfare of my child, Blythe," I said, walking slowly into the room, my heels clicking sharply on the polished concrete floor. "And right now, I want to discuss your future."
"I don't have anything to say to you," she said, looking away, her jaw tightening in a desperate attempt to maintain some shred of her former defiance. "My lawyers are handling everything. Callum is going to fix this."
"Callum is currently sitting in a holding cell at the federal courthouse," Arthur said, stepping forward and tossing a thick stack of documents onto the coffee table in front of her. "His bail has been denied because he is deemed a flight risk. His partners have kicked him out of the firm, and his mother has hired her own lawyers to sue him for the money he stole from the family trust."
Blythe stared at the documents, her eyes wide with mounting panic.
"You're alone, Blythe," I said, sitting down in the armchair across from her. "Callum isn't going to save you. He can't even save himself. And now, we have the forensic evidence from Aegis Holdings. We know you weren't just a passive bystander. We know you designed the scheme to steal my father's trust. We know about the forged signatures, the wire transfers, and the planned conservatorship."
The last remnant of Blythe's composure crumbled. She let out a choked sob, burying her face in her hands. "It was his idea!" she cried, her shoulders shaking. "He told me you didn't deserve the money! He said your father was a tyrant who hoarded his wealth, and that you were too weak to do anything with it! He said we could build an empire together!"
"And instead, you built a prison cell," I said coldly. "The federal charges carry a minimum sentence of fifteen years, Blythe. And because of the nature of the fraud—stealing human tissue and biological material—the prosecutor is seeking the maximum penalty."
She looked up, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, her eyes pleading. "Please, Vivienne... please. I'm pregnant. I can't go to prison. I can't have this baby in a cell. Please, have mercy."
"Mercy is something you earn, Blythe," I said, leaning forward. "And right now, you have one chance to earn it. You are going to sign a full confession. You are going to detail every single meeting, every transaction, and every conversation you had with Callum. You are going to testify against him in court. You are going to cooperate fully with the federal prosecutors."
"And if I do?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Will you drop the charges against me?"
"No," I said, my voice absolute. "You committed a crime against me, against my father’s legacy, and against my unborn child. You are going to prison, Blythe. But if you cooperate, Arthur will negotiate a plea deal. You will serve your time in a minimum-security facility, and the prosecutor will recommend a reduced sentence of five years instead of fifteen."
She looked at the paperwork on the table, then at the federal agents standing by the door. The realization of her absolute defeat washed over her, heavy and final. She knew she had no cards left to play.
"And... and the baby?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "What happens to the baby?"
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"The baby is mine," I said, my voice softening just a fraction, filled with a deep, protective warmth. "The baby will come home with me. She will be raised with love, with security, and with the knowledge of who she truly is. You will sign over all parental claims, permanently and irrevocably, before you are sentenced."
Blythe closed her eyes, a long, shaky breath escaping her lips. Slowly, she reached out, picked up the pen resting on the table, and pulled the documents toward her.
