Hiram is still my brother. Even if he ends up in prison, I just want him bto /bmake bit /bthrough those years safely,” Charlotte said, rising to her feet and meeting bhis /bbgaze/b. “All I’m asking for is a little fairness. Is that really too much?”

“Fairness?” Evander stepped closer, his presence almost overwhelming. “He nned a kidnapping, Charlotte. Even if no real harm was done, a crime is still a crime. And you want to talk to me about fairness?”

“If no one got hurt, thew can go easy on him. But would you ever even consider helping Hiram get a lighter sentence?”

“Absolutely not.” His answer was cold, decisive–without a hint of hesitation.

Charlotte’s heart clenched, the color draining from her face. “So I’m wrong for wanting fairness now?”

“He could’ve hurt anyone, but he shouldn’t have hurt her.”

His tant favoritism shattered whatever hope Charlotte had been holding on to.

She’d thought she could reason with him.

But she’d been foolish to hope. The Howard family was untouchable, and Evander was ruthless–even to her. There was no way he’d ever let her have her way.

“Charlotte, I don’t want you going to see Tricia again because of Hiram. You need to remember, she’s the victim here. Whatever’s between us has nothing to do with

her.”

As Evander turned to leave, Charlotteughed bitterly through her tears. “So I’m not a victim too?”

Did everything Tricia had done to her not count for anything?

Did she deserve to suffer through it all?

He paused, ncing back at her, his expression dark and unreadable.

“Evander, can’t you show me just a little mercy? Just once.”

Just once. That’s all I’m asking.

“Charlotte.” He held her gaze, utterly unmoved. “This is a debt I owe her.”

Without another word, he walked out of the office.

b08:46 /b

Chapter b90 /b

Charlotte stood there for a long time, the words “a debt bI /bowe bher/b” echoing bin /bbher /bmind. The answer was clear: who mattered more to him had never bbeen /bbin /bbdoubt/b.

Pain tightened in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Eventually, when the ache dulled, she managed a bitter smile.

Did he ever remember that he owed her something, too?

After leaving the hospital, Evander slid into the back seat of his car.

Natalie finished a call and turned around from the passenger seat. “Mr. Howard, Hiram epted the sentencing. The attorney hinted he could get a lighter sentence if he showed some remorse, but he wouldn’t admit to anything.”

If Hiram had just swallowed his pride and confessed, thewyer could’ve worked the system–maybe two years, with one suspended.

But Hiram was just as stubborn as Miss Sterling. Whenever it came to Miss Winthrop, neither of them would ever back down. They’d rather go head–to–head with Evander thanpromise…

Evander adjusted his cufflinks, his tone cold. “He wants to serve time? Let him serve every minute.”

“But sir, aren’t you going to tell Miss Sterling that, actually-”

“Are you always this talkative?” Evander tapped his watch, his expression darkening. “Maybe I’m not giving you enough work.”

Natalie fell silent, biting back a retort.

What an asshole, she thought, exasperated.

Meanwhile, at the precinct.

Hiram was led into a holding cell with six or seven other inmates. As soon as the officers left, a heavily tattooed man eyed Hiram from head to toe. “New guy, your name’s Hiram, right?”

“Who’s asking?”

Seeing the man’s hostile re, Hiram braced himself.

The tattooed man grinned, showing off a row of gold teeth, and stood up slowly, “A friend of ours paid us to give you a warm wee.”

08:46

Hiram jabbed a finger at them. “What, you guys want to start something? I’m warning you, there are cameras in here.”

“Cameras?” The tattooed man snorted, jutting out his chin. “Why don’t you take a look for yourself?”

Hiram nced over his shoulder.

The red light in the corner–the only sign of surveince–had gone out.

The next morning, Charlotte sat at the table, barely touching her breakfast. She forced down a few spoonfuls of porridge before pushing her bowl away.

Lana emerged from the kitchen carrying a te of fruit. She set it on the table. “Ma’am, you haven’t had much of an appetite these past couple of days. How about I whip up something tangy tomorrow to help you eat?”

Charlotte looked up and smiled. “I wish you were my mom, Lana. Anyone with a mother like you would be lucky.”

“Ma’am, you tter me.”

“No, I mean it.” Charlotte lowered her gaze. “I know you’re just doing your job, but I’ll never forget how kind you’ve been to me.”

Lana paused, suddenly ufortable. “Now, let’s not talk like that–you sound as if you’re saying goodbye, and I don’t like it.”

Charlotte took another sip of her porridge, dodging the remark with a faint smile.

After all, she really was about to say goodbye.

Suddenly, her phone rang on the table. It was her mother, Rachel, calling.