Amy Sinclair was just stepping out of the kitchen when she spotted the unexpected visitors—her face immediately darkened.

"Officer, this must be a misunderstanding. Celeste would never leak trade secrets. Are you certain you have the right person?" Samantha Reynolds blurted out, her voice laced with panic.

The officer remained impassive. "That’s not for you to determine, miss. We need her cooperation."

Samantha opened her mouth to argue, but Amy gently placed a hand on her arm, stopping her.

She turned to the officers with a composed nod. "I understand. I’ll go with you."

Then, lowering her voice, she reassured Samantha. "Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Just call Sebastian Kingsley’s firm—get me my lawyer."

The steadiness in Amy’s voice calmed Samantha, if only slightly. Right. She needed to act fast.

"And one more thing..." Amy quickly rattled off a series of instructions.

As Samantha processed the words, her eyes widened in shock. "Celeste... did you expect this?"

Amy gave her a small, knowing nod.

Within minutes, Amy was escorted out by the police.

She was detained that evening.

After hours of relentless questioning, dawn finally crept through the windows.

The interrogation ended just as her lawyer arrived to secure her release.

He had shown up the night before, demanding to see her, but the officers had refused, claiming she was still under questioning. The attorney, from Sebastian Kingsley’s prestigious firm, had pulled every favor he could. By morning, after relentless negotiations, Amy was granted bail.

She knew exactly who was responsible for this.

The moment she stepped into the station’s lobby, two familiar figures came into view.

Nathan Prescott and Victoria Langley.

Exhaustion clung to Amy’s features, her complexion pale, her clothes slightly rumpled—a stark contrast to Victoria’s flawless, camera-ready appearance.

Nathan took one look at her and smirked. "Well, well. If it isn’t the infamous Celeste Sinclair. Out already? What’s the matter—couldn’t handle a night in a cell?"

Amy met their gazes with icy indifference. "You two woke up this early just to watch me walk out? At this point, people might think you’re obsessed."

There was no need for pleasantries. They were enemies, after all, and no one else was around to witness this.

Nathan scoffed. "Who in their right mind would be obsessed with you? A washed-up musician with nothing to her name. Pathetic."

He made a show of pretending to gag before continuing. "Actually, I’m here to do you a favor. Amy, your luck has officially run out."

"Remember that auction where you thought you could humiliate us? Thought you could just throw money around and win?"

"Newsflash—your little shopping spree didn’t save you. The police already seized everything you bought."

"And your accounts? Frozen. Every last one."

"We’re not just here to watch you fall. We’re here to make sure you stay down."

"You might be out now, but trust me—you won’t last the day."

"And once you’re back inside? No one’s coming for you. Get comfortable with the idea of prison."

After so many losses at Amy’s hands, Nathan was relishing this moment.

"Amy, if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life behind bars, you could always beg. For Liam’s sake, maybe I’d convince Alexander to go easy on you."

As Nathan gloated, Amy’s lips curved into a faint smile. There was no fear in her eyes—only amusement.