Ryder’s POV
The heavy doors of the Zurich Police Department swung open. Instead of walking out with my head bowed like a common criminal, I strode out into the freezing Swiss air wearing a bespoke black suit that molded perfectly to my massive frame. There were no handcuffs. No flashing camera lenses from journalists. Everything was dead silent.
My lead attorney walked one step behind me. Tens of millions of dollars in bail had been wired, and the Vance Group’s PR team had worked tirelessly through the night to gag the international media. The news of my arrest had been wiped clean from the internet as if last night had never happened.
"I have already processed the paperwork for your resignation from the professional hockey league, Sir," my lawyer reported, his voice trembling slightl
