By the time the sun broke through the city haze, Brandon’s name was back on every newsfeed. Hughes Scion Confesses to Corporate Sabotage. The headline glared from every screen in the precinct lobby, his photo—a still from some long-forgotten gala—staring back at him with that familiar polished arrogance.
Inside, Brandon sat calmly at a steel interrogation table, sleeves rolled up, eyes unreadable. He didn’t look like a man cornered; he looked like a man waiting.
The door slammed open. Julia stepped in, breathless, fury and fear clashing in her gaze. “Are you insane?”
He lifted his head, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Good morning to you too.”
“Don’t do that,” she snapped, voice trembling. “Don’t act like this is just another game. You confessed, Brandon. They’re already spinning
