She disappeared before Richard could confront her.
But he already knew.
He had spent decades dealing with people who hid knives behind smiles.
So he did what he did best.
He investigated.
Not Emily.
Victoria.
Three days later, the truth surfaced.
And it was far worse than he expected.
Emily hadn’t always been on the streets.
Just months earlier, she had worked as a seamstress in a textile factory—one owned by Victoria’s family.
That factory had been deliberately bankrupted.
Hundreds of workers—over 800 people—were left with nothing. No severance. No compensation.
Emily, pregnant and desperate, had gone to beg for what she was owed.
Victoria had humiliated her.
Had her thrown out.
When she saw her again that night—
She didn’t see a victim.
She saw a threat.
Richard returned home.
Victoria was waiting, calm, composed, a glass of wine in her hand.
“What’s wrong?” she asked sweetly.
He didn’t answer.
He dropped a thick file onto the table.
Her smile vanished as she flipped through the pages.
Evidence.
Everything.
“You don’t understand—” she started.
“I understand perfectly,” Richard said coldly.
“They’re nothing,” she snapped, her voice rising. “Just people. Numbers. You’ve done worse.”
He stared at her.
Disgusted.