Chapter 6 - The Fall
The next forty-eight hours were a complete and utter nightmare as the media descended on Northstar Technologies.
Nathan was denied bail, locked away in a maximum-security cell while the board of directors desperately tried to save the plunging stock.
Julian seamlessly stepped into the role of acting CEO, claiming he had survived the crash and returned to save his family's legacy.
I sat in my apartment, staring blankly at the news coverage, feeling completely powerless and entirely alone.
My phone suddenly vibrated on the coffee table, displaying a completely restricted, unknown number.
I answered cautiously, expecting another aggressive reporter looking for a juicy inside scoop on the scandal.
"Maya, listen to me very carefully, you do not have much time," Nathan's deep, urgent voice rushed through the speaker.
"Nathan, how are you calling me from inside the jail?" I gasped, clutching the phone tightly to my ear.
"I paid off a guard, but the connection will not last long," he explained rapidly.
"You need to go to my penthouse tonight and find the hidden wall safe behind the painting in my study."
"The code is the exact date we met in the cafeteria, please, Maya, it is the only way to prove Julian's fraud."
The line abruptly went dead, leaving me listening to the cold, empty dial tone of a broken connection.
I did not hesitate for a single second before grabbing my coat and running out into the rainy Chicago night.
I used the spare keycard Nathan had secretly slipped into my purse weeks ago to bypass his building's heavy security.
The penthouse was completely dark and terrifyingly silent when I finally stepped inside.
I found the study, located the abstract painting, and punched the date of my confession into the hidden digital keypad.
The heavy steel door clicked open, revealing a stack of legal documents and a thick manila folder inside.
I pulled the folder out, expecting to find bank statements proving Julian and Victoria’s massive financial crimes.
Instead, a dozen high-resolution photographs spilled onto the expensive wooden desk, scattering wildly under the lamp light.
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The pictures were of me, dating back over ten years, taken secretly outside my high school, my college, and my apartment.
Attached to the photos was a detailed, heavily redacted contract bearing Nathan’s distinct, unmistakable signature.
