CHAPTER NINETY

Kayla sat with her arms tightly crossed, simmering with anger in the stark interrogation room. The overhead fluorescent lights hummed loudly in the small gray space furnished only with a metal table and uncomfortable chairs.

She checked the dainty gold watch on her wrist for the tenth time, growing more impatient.

She had been left waiting for almost forty-five minutes since the silent agent had uncuffed her and curtly motioned for her to enter this room.

Finally, the heavy door swung open.

Julian entered, now wearing a crisp charcoal suit rather than the FBI windbreaker.

He gently closed the door behind him and took a seat facing Kayla, setting down a thick manila folder stuffed with papers that made a resounding thud.

"Ms. Johns, I do apologize for the wait," Julian began politely. "As I'm sure you can imagine, bringing charges against a high-profile executive such as yourself requires many formalities."

Kayla squinted at him. "High profile or not, you've made a ridiculous mistake.
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