Damien
The indictment came through official channels on a Tuesday morning, hand-delivered by two detectives who showed up at my apartment with a search warrant and expressions that told me exactly how thoroughly Adrian's legal team had finally succeeded in cornering me.
Fraud. Conspiracy. Illegal surveillance. The charges read like a catalog of every careful, patient move I'd made over these past months, all of it now reduced to felony counts that would follow me for the rest of my life regardless of how the eventual trial concluded.
I watched them search my apartment with a detachment that surprised even me, some part of my mind already working several steps ahead, calculating what remained available to me now that every legitimate avenue had finally, completely closed.
Not much, as i
