---- Chapter 9 Derek signed away his life with a trembling hand, his eyes still fixed on the fake DNA report. The guilt had consumed him, a cancer of the soul. "Is this enough?" he pleaded, his voice a broken whisper. "Can we start over? I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, | swear." | looked at him, at the pathetic, weeping man before me, and felt nothing but cold, satisfying contempt. "There is no 'us' anymore, Derek," | said, my voice devoid of emotion. | gathered the signed documents. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer." He let out a strangled sob as | turned and walked away, not looking back. The sound was music to my ears. Outside the detention center, my lawyer was waiting. | handed him the papers. "File these immediately," | instructed. "And liquidate everything. The houses, the cars, the stocks. Sell it all. | want nothing left of his empire but dust." "Consider it done," he said with a grim smile. | got in the car and drove away, the city shrinking in the ---- rearview mirror. | was leaving my old life behind, burning it to the ground. A few weeks later, Derek was released on bail. The assault charges were minor compared to the public scandal, and with his wealth seemingly intact, his lawyers had worked their magic. He was a free man, for now. The first place he went was home. Our home. He rushed up the driveway, a desperate hope in his eyes, only to find the locks had been changed. A strange car was parked in the driveway. A woman he didn't recognize opened the door. "Can | help you?" she asked, her tone wary. "This is my house," Derek said, his voice laced with confusion and anger. The woman laughed. "Not anymore, buddy. We closed three days ago." "What? Who sold it?" he demanded. "A woman named Aleida Benson," the new owner said, her eyes narrowing. "She gave us a great deal. Said she needed to sell fast." The woman looked him up and down with disgust. "Aren't you that guy from the news? You need to leave now, or I'm calling the cops." ---- She slammed the door in his face. Derek stood on the pristine lawn of his former home, a man adrift. He pulled out his phone, frantically trying to call me, but the number was still disconnected. He was blocked. Utterly and completely cut off. In a panic, he called his assistant, Leo. "Leo! What the hell is going on? Aleida sold the house!" he yelled into the phone. There was a pause on the other end, then a cold, unfamiliar voice replied. "Leo doesn't work for you anymore." "Who is this?" Derek demanded. "This is the new CEO's assistant," the voice said, dripping with condescension. "And I'd advise you to lose this number." "New CEO? What are you talking about? That's my company!" "Not anymore," the assistant sneered. "It went bankrupt last week. All assets were acquired by a new holding company. | hear they're looking for janitorial staff, if you're interested." The line went dead. Derek stared at his phone in disbelief. His home, his company, his entire life... gone. It had all been systematically dismantled while he was locked away, consumed by a fake grief. He was a ghost in his own life.