"That's right. And those big contracts of his weren't clean, either. I saw him with my own eyes, meeting a female client at a hotel in the middle of the night."

"Who knows what kind of dirty tricks he pulled."

"Exactly. He's an absolute disgrace to Delgado Group."

"You... all of you..."

I stared at these people—the same ones who used to call me "bro" and hang on my every word—now turning on me just to suck up to the new director.

The betrayal was sickening.

Beverly issued her ultimatum. "Vincent, everyone here can see the truth plain as day."

"Sign this repayment agreement today, hand over the money, and I'll let you walk out of here."

"Refuse, and I call the police. You'll go to prison."

"Extortion and embezzlement. That goes on your permanent record. No company in this country will ever touch you again."

I looked around the office—this company I'd built up with my own two hands—and let out a cold laugh. "Great. You're all just great."

"I'm not paying back a single cent. Go ahead. Call the cops."

I snatched the agreement off the table, ripped it to shreds, and flung the pieces straight into Beverly's face. Then I turned and headed for the door.

I was done. With my gifts, I could make eight million dollars anywhere.

"Leaving? Not that easy." Dean's eyes turned venomous in an instant. He snapped his fingers, the sound sharp as a cracking whip.

Four or five hulking men rushed in and locked the door behind them.

I tried to force my way through. The moment I reached the door, the guards shoved me back with brutal force.

I stumbled and hit the ground hard. My forehead caught the sharp corner of the coffee table, and something warm immediately trickled down from my temple.

"Let me go!" I struggled to get up.

But Dean walked over and stood above me.

He pulled out his phone, unhurried, almost leisurely, and dialed a video call. Then he shoved the screen in my face.

"Recognize this place?"

One glance was all it took. Every drop of blood in my body went cold.

The video showed my grandmother's nursing home.

Inside the ICU, several men were shoving nurses aside. One of them already had his hand on the breathing tube—the tube keeping my grandmother alive.

She was unconscious, but her brow was deeply furrowed, as if she could feel some terrible pain even through the coma.

"Stop! Don't touch her!" I thrashed against the guards, but they pinned me to the floor.