Wendy Tate was Theodore's naïve yet trouble-prone sweetheart, and the car involved in the accident was my red Ferrari—his birthday gift for me the previous year.

The car was registered under my name, and now I understood that every so-called gift had come with a hidden price tag.

He pulled a document out of his briefcase and slid it toward me. It was a confession letter.

Adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses, he spoke softly, but each word cut deeply. "Wendy is heading abroad for further studies soon. Her record can't have any blemishes."

I stared at him in disbelief, unable to fathom this was the same man who'd once vowed in court to protect me with the full force of the law.

My voice trembled as I asked, "So, you want me to take the blame and go to prison for her?"

"Fair deal, isn't it?" His tone remained eerily calm. "You're an orphan with no family ties. Serve a few years inside, and I'll pay you enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life. When you're out, I'll handle everything."

He paused, his eyes narrowing behind the lenses. "But if you refuse, I'll use every resource at my disposal to ensure you can't survive in this city. And all the money I've given you? It will be reclaimed."

Money... He knew it was both my weakness and my armor.

My tears splashed onto the confession paper as I trembled from head to toe.

The system prompted: "Host's acting skills at Oscar level. Strategy mission enters final settlement phase. Prepare for Faking Death exit."

Finally, it was coming to an end.

Theodore observed my reaction, assuming I'd caved in. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes as he reached out to pat my head like he always did, offering false comfort.

I dodged instinctively, leaving his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. His expression shifted, but I ignored it, grabbing the pen and signing the document.

Afterward, I felt completely drained. Theodore tucked the form away, his gentle façade returning. "Good. Tomorrow is the joint engagement party for the Jameson, York, and Xander families, with the media everywhere. Once it's over, the police will escort you for questioning. Enjoy your last taste of freedom."

I bowed my head, letting my hair hide my face. In the shadows where he couldn't see, a smirk crept across my lips. Yes, tomorrow truly marked the finale.

Back at my condo, my phone pinged with two messages arriving simultaneously.

Frederick: [Dress down for tomorrow's party, serve Sophia drinks, and make amends.]

Samuel: [Meet some pharmacology experts tomorrow. Your body data is gold for research.]

Staring at the texts, I laughed until tears streamed down my face. Each of them had already scripted out my role for tomorrow. Too bad for them—I was the one directing the show now.