A cleaning lady approached a millionaire and told him not to travel with his wife. The next morning, there was a luxury car next to her humble house…

They still had to ensure Amanda faced justice for everything she had done. Ryan, who had been silent since they fled the estate, finally spoke up from the driver’s seat. What now? His voice was tight with fear and uncertainty.

James leaned forward, his eyes hard with determination. We take Amanda and these files to Detective Martinez. We have everything we need to bring her down now.

Amanda’s laugh cut through the air like a knife, sharp and mocking. You really think this is over? She sneered, her voice dripping with venom. You’re playing a game you don’t understand, James.

My family has been at this for years. You think a few documents are enough to take us down? You’re delusional. James shot her a cold look in the rearview mirror.

You’re done, Amanda. This time, you don’t get to talk your way out of it. Amanda leaned back against the seat, her smile dark and unsettling.

We’ll see about that. Emily couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in her stomach at Amanda’s words. Even in defeat, Amanda exuded a dangerous confidence.

There was something unnerving about it, as if she had one more card to play that none of them saw coming. Emily glanced at James, his jaw set in grim determination, and then at Ryan, who kept his eyes glued to the road, clearly trying to keep himself out of the confrontation brewing in the car. The hours seemed to stretch as they drove back toward the city.

Emily’s nerves frayed with each passing mile. She kept thinking about her father, about everything Amanda’s family had taken from her. And now, after all these years, the truth was finally within reach.

But there was no denying the risk. Amanda’s family was powerful, and they wouldn’t let this go quietly. As they neared the city, the streetlights cast long shadows across the highway, and Emily’s phone buzzed in her lap.

It was Detective Martinez. She answered quickly, her voice shaky but urgent. Detective, it’s Emily.

We’ve got her. We have Amanda and we’ve got the files. There was a pause on the other end of the line.

Then Martinez’s voice came through, steady and calm. Good work, Emily. Where are you? We’re about 20 minutes outside the city, Emily replied.

We’re heading to the station now. Martinez’s tone shifted, a hint of urgency creeping in. Don’t go to the station.

Take her to a secure location. We’ll meet you there. Emily frowned, her heart skipping a beat.

Why? What’s going on? Martinez hesitated for a second, then said, Amanda’s family has powerful connections. Emily, we’ve already had a few leaks within the department. We can’t risk bringing her in through the front door.

Just trust me. Take her to the warehouse on 8th Avenue. It’s safe.

I’ll have officers waiting there. Emily exchanged a quick glance with James, her who had been listening to the conversation. He gave a slight nod, indicating they should follow Martinez’s instructions.

Okay, Emily said into the phone. We’ll head to the warehouse. As she hung up, she noticed Amanda’s smile widen ever so slightly, as if she knew something they didn’t.

It sent a chill down Emily’s spine. But they had no choice. They had to trust Martinez.

Ryan took a sharp turn off the highway, heading toward the city’s industrial district. The streets grew quieter, darker, as they approached the warehouse district. It was an area Emily didn’t know well, mostly abandoned buildings and factories that had long since fallen into disrepair.

The warehouse loomed ahead, a massive, shadowy structure at the end of narrow street. As they pulled up to the entrance, Emily’s nerves spiked. Everything about this situation felt wrong.

There were no police cars, no officers waiting to meet them, just the cold, empty lot in front of the warehouse. We’re here, Ryan muttered, killing the engine. The car sat in silence for a moment as they all stared at the building.

James was the first to speak. Stay sharp, he said, his voice low. Something feels off.

They got out of the car cautiously, Amanda’s eyes following their every move with that unsettling smile still plastered on her face. Emily’s heart raced as they approached the warehouse door, every instinct screaming at her to turn back. But it was too late now.

They were in too deep. As they stepped inside, the sound of their footsteps echoed in the vast, empty space. The warehouse was dimly lit, with only a few flickering bulbs hanging from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows across the floor.

Emily’s pulse quickened as she glanced around. It was too quiet. Suddenly, the door behind them slammed shut with a deafening bang.

Emily spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. Three men stood at the entrance, guns drawn, their faces cold and expressionless. She recognized them immediately.

They were Amanda’s men, the same ones from the estate. Amanda let out a soft, satisfied laugh. I told you, she said, her voice cutting through the silence.

You don’t understand the game. James’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he stepped in front of Emily protectively. What is this? He demanded.

Amanda shrugged casually, as if this were all part of some grand, inevitable plan. This is the part where you lose, James. One of the men stepped forward, his gun aimed squarely at James.

Hand over the files, he ordered, his voice cold and mechanical. Emily’s mind raced. They were trapped.

There was no way out. She could feel the panic rising in her chest, but she fought to stay calm. She had come too far to let Amanda win now.

James, ever composed, tightened his grip on the bag containing the files. You’re not getting these, he said, his voice steady, but firm. The man cocked his gun, the sound sending a shiver down Emily’s spine…