Chapter 169: Confession From A Cowardly Traitor

"Sarah, give me a status update," I said smoothly as the elevator doors closed.

"Everything is locked down, Ethan," Sarah reported, her voice coming through crisp and sharp over the speaker. "The moment Jean-Luc vanished from his apartment logs, I executed your protocol. I had our private legal security team station off-duty officers and licensed private transport units across all three international terminals he could possibly use."

I smirked, holding the phone slightly so Chloe could hear.

"Every airport?" I asked.

"Every single one," Sarah confirmed with a cold, professional chuckle. "Main international, the private charter airfields, and the regional hub. I sent his photo, passport details, and flight profile to all three teams. There is zero chance he slips through. The second he steps into any terminal lobby, they’re grabbing him and holding him until you and Chloe arrive."

"Perfect work, Sarah," I said. "Keep them on standby. We’re heading toward the private airfield now."

I hung up and slipped the phone back into my jacket, looking over at Chloe as we stepped out into the garage.

Chloe let out a low laugh, shaking her head as she opened the passenger door of the SUV. "Private airport security posted at three different terminals? You really don’t leave anything to chance, do you?"

"When someone steals thirty-eight million dollars’ worth of momentum from my company," I said, sliding into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition, "I don’t give them a running start."

I shifted into drive and hit the accelerator, tearing out of the garage toward the highway.

"Now," I said, watching the traffic clear ahead of us. "Let’s go collect our master tailor."

We pulled back into the private underground garage at Hidden Gem HQ just as a tinted, blacked-out SUV rolled up the concrete ramp right behind us.

The SUV ground to a halt, and two burly private security officers in tactical suits stepped out, opening the rear passenger door.

Jean-Luc was cowering in the back seat, clutching his leather designer duffel bag to his chest like a shield. He was hyperventilating, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated terror as he refused to set a foot on the concrete floor.

"Out of the vehicle, Mr. Luc," one of the officers ordered in a gruff voice.

Jean-Luc shrank further into the leather cushions, violently shaking his head. "N-No! You can’t do this! This is kidnapping! I have a flight to catch! I have rights!"

I killed the engine of my SUV, stepped out into the cool subterranean air, and walked over to his open door. My footsteps echoed slowly off the concrete pillars, each click sounding like a death knell.

When Jean-Luc looked up and met my eyes, the color completely drained from his face.

"E-Ethan..." he stammered, his voice cracking as sweat dripped down his forehead. "I—I can explain... it wasn’t... Oliver, he forced my hand, he offered—"

Before he could finish his sniveling excuse, I reached into the backseat, grabbed him by his designer collar, and dragged him halfway out of the car. My right fist slammed straight into his jaw with a heavy, sickening crack.

Jean-Luc let out a muffled shriek, tumbling out of the door and collapsing onto his knees against the cold garage floor, clutching his bleeding lip and weeping hysterically.

Chloe walked up beside me, her high heels clicking softly against the concrete. She didn’t even flinch. She just casually took a slow, unbothered sip of her coffee, looking down at the groveling tailor like he was a stain on the floor.

"And that," Chloe said smoothly, turning her head toward me with an amused, razor-sharp smile, "was clearly a necessary use of physical force in self-defense. The suspect looked incredibly hostile."

She stepped forward, stopping right in front of the shaking man. She reached into her sharp black coat, pulled out a thick leather folder containing the pre-drafted federal affidavits, and crouched down to his eye level.

"Hello, Jean-Luc," Chloe said, her voice dropping into a ice-cold, professional purr. "I’m Chloe. I’m UncuT’s lead legal counsel, and I’m the person currently standing between you and a ten-year stretch in a federal penitentiary for corporate espionage, wire fraud, and grand larceny."

Jean-Luc looked up at her through tear-filled eyes, trembling violently as he held his bruised jaw.

"Now," Chloe continued, tapping the legal documents against her palm with a sweet, lethal smile. "You are going to walk upstairs, sit down at a desk, and give me a full, recorded, signed confession detailing every single dollar Oliver Rick paid you for those seven designs. Do you understand me?"

Jean-Luc hastily nodded his head, choking back a sob. "Y-Yes! Yes, I’ll sign! Anything! Just don’t let him hit me again!"

Chloe stood up, smoothing down the lapel of her wool coat, and glanced back at me with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"See, Ethan?" she murmured softly. "I told you we’d get our signature."

"Good," I said, a cold, satisfied weight lifting off my shoulders as the security team hoisted Jean-Luc up by his arms and began hauling him toward the private elevator.

Chloe followed right behind them, tapping her pen against the thick folder containing his confession forms. "I’ll handle his statement," she said over her shoulder. "Make sure every detail about Oliver’s wire transfers is etched into stone."

I lingered in the quiet garage for a few minutes, watching the elevator doors close before heading up to the drafting wing.

When I reached Benita’s studio, she was leaning over her main cutting table, furiously pinning heavy charcoal velvet against a customized acrylic mannequin. Her dark hair was tied back in a messy knot, sweat glistening on her forehead under the bright studio lights.

She froze the moment I stepped inside, her sharp eyes locking onto mine as she caught her breath.

"Did you find him?" she demanded, setting her pins down instantly. "Did you catch that sniveling bastard?"

"I’m going to hunt," I growled, turning on my heel and marching straight out of the studio toward the private elevator.