It seemed I had touched a nerve.

“You still have the nerve to ask!” she snapped.

“If it weren’t for you, the Band Corporation would have gone public years ago! You held us back, and now look at us—stuck in this mediocre state!”

“That’s something your nephew told you, isn’t it?” I said calmly.

Her nephew, Hank Mormont, had returned from studying abroad five years ago.

With her connections, Greta secured him a position at Band Corporation.

From the moment he joined, he accused the company of being outdated and called me—its manager—a coward who hindered progress.

He pushed for aggressive financing, expansion, and a fast track to listing the company. But what he never understood was that back then, I was already struggling to keep Band Corporation afloat.

After graduating, I started at Band Corporation as a junior employee and worked my way up to management step by step.

It was during that time that Angela’s father noticed me and arranged for us to be together.

At first, I didn’t want to marry a pampered heiress, but she was lively, open-hearted, full of the sunshine I had always longed for.

Someone like her was irresistibly magnetic to me.

Before I knew it, I had fallen for her.

When we got together, control of the company was handed over to me.

In the beginning, Band Corporation was just a small trading company.

After I took over, I not only brought in new clients but also expanded the supply lines for multiple products. I even built a factory of our own, finally securing a stable source of goods.

But because we started small, both the Band and Mormont families had relatives scattered throughout the company.

The staff network was tangled and complicated, and new hires found it nearly impossible to fit in.

It took me two years to untangle those relationships and assign everyone to roles where they could actually contribute.

That was how we slowly built the company into what it had become.

Then Hank returned and began feeding his aunt nonsense, claiming I lacked vision and courage, saying Band Corporation needed a bold leader willing to take risks.

I couldn’t bear to see all my hard work destroyed, nor could I let down the employees who had trusted me.

So, I suppressed him—and that suppression lasted five years.

For all those years, he stayed as vice director of the sales department. Yet in that time, he failed to bring in new clients and even managed to offend several of the ones I had nurtured.

“If you had just let Hank switch departments, he would have achieved something by now!” Greta scolded me.

I smiled faintly. “Now that I’m gone, nothing stands in his way. He can finally shine.”

“You don’t need to remind me! Hank graduated from a prestigious business school abroad—how could he possibly be worse than you?”

“So, Greta, what brings you here today?” I asked.

Caught off guard, she stammered, and I instantly knew what she was after.

Sure enough, she said, “Where’s that new product proposal you submitted last month?”

I leaned back in my chair. “Didn’t you say the new product was too risky?”

Three months ago, I had noticed a new type of product emerging on the market—one that fit perfectly with the modern lifestyle of young consumers.

I drafted a proposal for it, but Hank and his henchman dismissed it as reckless.

Yet within just a month, that very product flooded the market, and many companies had already begun producing it.

“Well? Are you going to give it to me or not?” she demanded.

“I can’t,” I replied. “I’ve destroyed it.”

In truth, I had kept it until just last week, when I finally fed the entire proposal through the shredder.

I had spent nearly half a month researching the market, analyzing costs, and forecasting industry trends to complete that plan.

It could have taken Band Corporation to a new level—but none of that mattered anymore.

“Fine!” she snapped.

“If that’s how you want to play it, let’s see if you can make it on your own!”

Greta’s phone rang as soon as she stood up to leave.

The moment she answered, a panicked voice came through, “Aunt Greta, something’s wrong! The tax authorities just came to inspect our company!”

It was Hank.

“What did you say?”

The accounting department, where his mother worked, was suddenly under scrutiny.

She wasn’t the manager, but because of her family ties, even the manager deferred to her.

If something really was discovered, his mother would be the first to fall—no wonder he was terrified.

Greta glared at me with fury.

“Did you do this?”

“No,” I replied.

And it was true.

I had already left the company, and by then, their own people had completely tangled up the finances.

“I’d advise you to sort it out quickly,” I said quietly. “If you drag this out, you won’t be able to clean up the mess later.”

“We don’t need your advice!” she snapped.

---

I thought the matter had nothing to do with me.

After all, during my time there, I had no authority over the company’s accounts.

Richard Band, Angela’s father, regularly reviewed the books himself, and Hank’s mother managed the finances directly.

Yet only two days later, both Hank and Greta showed up again—this time with a man who looked like a lawyer.

“How did the tax investigation happen so fast?” Hank demanded.

“Enough,” Greta said sharply.

“What’s the point of talking about that now?”

I looked at them both, wondering what they had come for this time.

Then Greta forced a smile.

“It’s like this—the financial problems started while you were still employed. And since you were already arrested for embezzlement, maybe you should think carefully.

“Did you, perhaps, instruct someone to alter the accounts?”

So that was it—they wanted to pin it all on me.

“No,” I said firmly.

“I never interfered with Band Corporation’s accounts. Everything was personally managed by Richard.”

“You’d better think carefully,” Greta warned.

“If you remember something useful, Band Corporation might help you get a reduced sentence. But if you keep playing dumb, the consequences will be serious.”

She turned to the lawyer. “For someone like Callum, how many years would that be?”

“If both charges hold,” the lawyer replied calmly, “he’d be looking at a minimum of seven years in prison.”

“Fine,” I said. “Do whatever you want.”

I was about to leave when a voice stopped me.

Angela entered, clutching a stack of papers, tears streaming down her face.

“Tell me the truth, Callum. What is this about?”

Behind her stood Darren.

---

“I told you not to let her see it!” I said angrily.

“Why not! Callum, look at these people—do they even deserve it?”

“I chose this myself,” I said quietly. “I did it willingly.”

Angela threw the papers at me, her voice breaking.

“So you just plan to die alone without telling me?”

Greta finally caught on. “What’s going on here?”

Angela locked eyes with me.

“Say something! Were you planning to keep this from everyone and go to your death in silence?”