Chapter 6
914words
I walked beside Elisa and her attorney into the austere police station. Everything felt cold and institutional—the air sharp with disinfectant and the musty scent of paperwork.
We were shown to a small interview room where Elisa placed a thick folder before the detective. Inside lay three months of meticulous evidence collection—proof of Damian's crimes and documentation of Elisa's trauma.
The folder contained complete records from the adult site, with every transaction traced to Damian's offshore accounts. It included recordings of his threats and blackmail attempts, his voice dripping with malice. Screenshots documented his affair with Kate, alongside communication records proving their conspiracy. The evidence chain was airtight and damning.
The veteran detective paged through the documents, his frown deepening with each turn. When he finally looked up, his expression was grave.
"Ms. Elisa, this evidence is extremely compelling," he said solemnly. "We're looking at multiple serious offenses here. We'll open an investigation immediately and take appropriate action against the suspects."
Elisa nodded. Her face showed no vindictive pleasure—only the quiet relief of someone who had finally delivered truth to light.
Outside, the cold wind whipped against our faces. Elisa inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, her shoulders finally dropping from their tense position.
But we had all underestimated Damian's desperation and shamelessness.
That afternoon, while reviewing documents in my office, my phone began buzzing frantically. The receptionist's voice came through, pitched with panic: "Miss April! You need to see this! That Damian... he's... he's KNEELING at our front entrance!"
I quickly pulled up the security feed.
There he was—wrinkled suit, wild hair, kneeling pathetically on the polished marble, facing our doors while sobbing and shouting. A crowd had already formed, smartphones raised to capture the spectacle.
I snapped a photo of the monitor with a derisive laugh. "Another Oscar-worthy performance."
Elisa called moments later, her voice eerily calm: "I'm heading down."
I moved to the window to watch the scene unfold. Elisa emerged in a razor-sharp suit and towering heels, striding through the automatic doors like a queen entering combat.
She stopped before him, looking down with eyes devoid of emotion.
At her appearance, Damian's sobs intensified. He crawled forward on his knees, reaching for her ankle, but she stepped deftly aside.
"Elisa! Please forgive me! I was wrong—so wrong!" Tears and snot streamed down his once-handsome face, now contorted into something grotesque. "For the sake of our three years together—just one more chance! I can't go to prison, I can't—"
The crowd stirred, camera flashes intensifying like a paparazzi frenzy.
Elisa stood motionless, neither interrupting nor reacting, as if watching a mildly interesting play with no personal connection.
The world seemed to pause, everyone holding their breath for her response.
Only when his sobs had diminished to pathetic sniffles did she finally speak. Her voice wasn't raised, but it carried perfectly, cold as winter steel.
"I hear your apology."
Hope flared instantly in Damian's eyes as he looked up at her.
"However," she paused deliberately, "I don't accept it."
Those four words shattered his last hope. The crowd erupted in murmurs.
His expression froze, then morphed from disbelief to savage hatred. "You'll regret this!" he snarled through clenched teeth. "You'll fucking regret this, Elisa!"
Elisa turned away without another glance. As she walked back toward the building, straight-backed and resolute, she tossed one final comment over her shoulder.
"The only thing I regret is ever loving you."
She walked away with perfect poise, leaving him broken on his knees amid the flashing cameras.
That same afternoon, another unwelcome visitor appeared.
Kate tracked me down, knowing she couldn't approach Elisa directly. She'd carefully applied "exhausted" makeup, complete with reddened eyes, clearly hoping to play on my sympathy. She begged me, for the sake of "our old friendship," to help her make peace with Elisa—or at least secure her a job or some cash.
Her performance was so transparent it was almost comical.
Without a word, I took out my phone, pulled up the video I'd just saved, and showed it to her. Damian's pathetic performance played in high definition.
The color drained from her face.
"This is where you're headed," I said coldly, tossing a pre-prepared check onto the table before her.
"Courtesy of Elisa," I said, leaning back and crossing my arms. "She says she'll give you what you want. Take the money and vanish from our lives. Permanently."
I leaned in close, my voice dropping to a menacing whisper: "If we ever see your face again, those transaction records showing your cut of the video sales will be on every news site by morning."
Kate trembled visibly. She snatched up the check, her eyes widening at the amount—greed flashing briefly before being overwhelmed by humiliation and fear. Without a word, she clutched her blood money and fled.
I found Elisa at a corner café, sitting by the window bathed in warm afternoon light.
She smiled when she saw me—a genuine, relaxed smile. I sat across from her, and we exchanged knowing looks, no words necessary.
The waiter brought our coffees. Elisa raised her cup as if toasting with champagne.
"To freedom," she said quietly.
I clinked my cup against hers. "To us."
Just then, sirens wailed outside, growing louder. A police car sped past, heading directly toward Elisa's office building.
We knew then that our long war was finally over. Damian was being arrested.
