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?”