Chapter 177

Serena's POV

I'd been here for what felt like an eternity, though my rational mind knew it had only been hours.

When the door opened, I expected another interrogator. Instead, a woman in her early twenties entered, her tailored navy suit and structured leather briefcase marking her clearly as a lawyer.

*Quinn Ashford. Eleanor's friend. Spencer Sherwood's wife, lead counsel for his firm.* It made me a bit surprise.

"Ms. Sinclair." Her voice was steady, professional. "I'm Quinn Ashford. Eleanor's friend. We met months ago. I'll be representing you in this case."

"Let me guess - Mr. Harrington sent you?" My lips curved into a bitter smile.

Quinn placed her briefcase on the table, her movements deliberate. "Does that affect my ability to help you?"

I turned slightly away, my fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the metal table. Of course Lucas would do this - arrange for one of Manhattan's top lawyers to handle my case. My chest tighten with an emotion I refused to name.

"Before we discuss strategy," Quinn said, opening her briefcase, "I need to ask you directly - have you ever engaged in bribery or tax evasion?"

"Never." The word came out sharp, definitive. "Every transaction was legitimate."

She nodded, spreading three documents before me. "Then let's address these pieces of evidence. First, the bank transfers."

Quinn placed a folder in front of me with deliberate precision. I fought to keep my expression neutral, though my stomach tightened at the sight of those documents.

"I've obtained evidence of your crimes," Quinn stated, her tone was professionally detached. Her fingers spread across the folder but didn't open it yet.

I'd seen these documents before, but facing them again sent an involuntary chill down my spine. This was a carefully orchestrated trap.

Quinn began methodically listing the charges, her voice cutting through the calm of the room. "The evidence includes all your criminal activities..." She opened the folder, revealing neat stacks of papers with highlighted sections.

I listened intently as she detailed three main accusations: a suspicious $4 million transfer, $30 million in unreported taxes, and those damning dinner photos. Each piece was meticulously crafted to ensnare me.

"I never transferred any money to Brad," I stated firmly. "As for those dinner meetings with him - they were standard business protocol. I'd just taken over StarRiver Group. Making rounds at various ports is expected in our industry. It's how business is done."

When Quinn questioned the bank account activity, I met her gaze directly, noting how her eyes narrowed slightly at my response. "I never received those funds. More importantly, I've never even opened that bank account."

My mind raced through the implications: orchestrating something this elaborate required an extensive network of connections. This wasn't the work of an amateur or someone with limited resources.

Quinn's expression shifted subtly as she suggested seeking Lucas's assistance. My heart constricted, but I kept my voice steady. "Ms. Ashford, who do you think is behind this case?"

Her silence spoke volumes. I pressed on, "You must have your suspicions. Given my relationship with Lucas, and his relationship with... certain parties, who do you think he would support?"

The words felt bitter in my mouth as I voiced a truth I'd learned the hard way: "In this world, when interests clash with emotions, interests always win."

Quinn's promise to help brought an unexpected warmth, despite her cool demeanor. Her chosen words and unwavering professionalism provided a strange sort of comfort.

As we discussed the tax reporting discrepancies, my thoughts turned to Vincent. My brow furrowed as I considered his possible involvement. I'd personally promoted him, trusted him.

Quinn summarized our findings with clinical efficiency. "So our key focus areas are: the origin of the bank card, and the apparent coordination between your financial officer Jessa, your secretary Vincent Chadwick, the deputy director of finance Brad, and our anonymous informant. They appear to have all been compromised."

I nodded, appreciating her straightforward approach.

"I understand the situation now," Quinn said, gathering her papers with practiced efficiency. "Your bail hearing is in one hour. I'll do everything possible."

"Thank you," I replied, surprised by how much her quiet competence reassured me. "What are our immediate options?"

"Bail will be difficult given the charges." Quinn's voice remained steady. "If we can't overturn this..." She hesitated.

"How long?" I kept my voice level.

"I'll try to keep it under ten years."

Ten years. The words hit like physical blows. I was twenty-five. By the time I got out, my youth would be gone, StarRiver might be destroyed...