Harsh fluorescent lights bathed the interrogation room in sickly white, the air thick with disinfectant and unspoken tension.

Cherry sat rigid on the metal chair, facing two stone-faced officers. Her expression showed no panic—only the bone-deep weariness that comes after prolonged control.


"Ms. Thorne, walk us through your schedule between three and four PM today. Again."

"I've explained this three times already," Cherry's voice was hoarse but steady. "At 2:50 PM, I was in the small conference room on the seventeenth floor with the core New Energy team—including Winston Zachary and Dr. Li—for our first post-bid planning meeting. The meeting ran until 4:20. I stepped out once for the restroom, gone maybe five minutes. The meeting minutes, security footage, and every participant can confirm this."

She paused, then added: "Lakeside Apartments is on the west side of the city. From headquarters, it's at least forty minutes each way—even without traffic. Physically impossible for me to make that trip and assault someone in a five-minute bathroom break."


The younger officer frowned. "But Ms. Skye identified you specifically, with emotional distress that appears genuine. And our preliminary investigation shows clear emotional conflict between you two."

Cherry raised her eyes, her gaze steady and penetrating. "Officer, I won't deny the conflict exists, but motive isn't action. Victoria Skye's accusation is your only 'evidence.' Do you have surveillance footage placing me at Lakeside? Fingerprints? DNA? Anything besides her word?"


The officers exchanged glances; they had nothing.

"I hope you'll conduct a more thorough investigation," Cherry continued evenly. "Verify Victoria Skye's background. Check her recent communications and social interactions. And ask yourselves—does it make sense that I'd throw away my career by attacking a pregnant woman right after my biggest professional triumph? This has all the hallmarks of a calculated frame job."

Her logical arguments offered new investigative angles. The senior officer couldn't help but admire her psychological fortitude—it was extraordinary.

Meanwhile, chaos erupted at Sinclair Corporation. News of the Vice President's arrest spread like wildfire, sending the stock price into freefall.

The board of directors convened an emergency meeting, tension thick in the air.

Sullivan sat at the head of the table, ashen-faced. On screen was Cherry being escorted out by police, her parting words—"you'll pay for your foolishness"—echoing in his mind, squeezing his heart like a vise.

Anger and worry churned inside him, making it impossible to sit still.

"Sullivan, this is a PR nightmare! We must act now!" An elderly board member slammed his fist on the table. "Cherry Thorne must be suspended immediately! We need to appease the public!"

"Agreed! Regardless of guilt, she can't remain Vice President now!"

"Our priority must be stabilizing the stock price and investor confidence!"

Most directors clearly favored sacrificing the rook to save the king.

Sullivan remained silent as images flashed through his mind: Cherry's intense focus during project meetings, her poised smile at the celebration, and that final, cold look of desperation in her eyes…

Could it really be her? Could Cherry—who once agonized over his slightest frown—become so vicious?

The images of Victoria's tearful fragility and Cherry's steely composure alternated in his mind, creating a jarring dissonance.

He remembered Cherry's warnings, Henry's insinuations, and the power shifts that followed his father's will…

"No." Sullivan's voice cut through the clamor, instantly silencing the room.

All eyes turned to him.

"Cherry Thorne will not be suspended until the investigation concludes," Sullivan said firmly, his gaze sweeping the room. "She's the backbone of the new energy project. Change leadership now, and what happens? We just secured the East City plot—who'll lead the implementation?"

"But public opinion—"

"I'll handle public opinion," Sullivan cut in. "I believe in Cherry Thorne."

Those last four words came with difficulty, yet absolute clarity—not just for the board, but for himself.

The meeting ended in discord. Back in his office, Sullivan summoned his most trusted aide: "Two things. First, use every resource to suppress negative coverage about Cherry. Push the 'innocent until proven guilty' angle. Second, get her the best lawyers money can buy. And…"

He lowered his voice. "Reinvestigate Victoria Skye—thoroughly. Every contact, every transaction in the past six months. And look for any connection to my dear cousin Henry!"

A flash of cold fury crossed his face. If this was indeed a conspiracy, the mastermind would pay dearly.

While Sinclair Corp mobilized, Cherry's private detective was hard at work.

Using Cherry's previous instructions and funding, he'd obtained Victoria's toothbrush through back channels and rushed DNA testing while digging deeper into her background.

The results were stunning.

The interrogation room lights still blazed. Cherry had maintained her composure for nearly eight hours, speaking only when necessary. She was conserving energy—and waiting.

Suddenly, the door opened. The senior officer entered with an odd expression, followed by another carrying a document folder.

"Ms. Thorne, you're free to go."

Cherry looked up, unsurprised.

The senior officer placed a document before her. "We've received new information about Ms. Skye's background. Her identity contains several unexplainable discrepancies with our records. Additionally, surveillance footage shows a woman matching her description falling by herself outside the apartment—no one else was present. Combined with your alibi, we have no grounds to hold you."

The truth had emerged—it was indeed a self-orchestrated frame job!

Cherry rose slowly, fighting a wave of dizziness after sitting so long. She met the senior officer's eyes with a slight nod. "Thank you for your thoroughness."

Outside the police station, the cold night air hit her face, making her shiver.

A black sedan waited at the curb. The window rolled down to reveal Sullivan's face—a complex mixture of relief and remorse.

"Cherry…" He stepped out, reaching for words.

Cherry walked past him as if he were invisible, heading straight for another waiting car—her private detective.

She opened the car door and paused without looking back. Her cold words drifted back: "Sullivan Sinclair, I've cleared my name. But between us, it's over."

The car sped away into the darkness.

Sullivan stood frozen, staring at the empty street, an unfamiliar void of regret expanding in his chest.

He knew that some things, once lost, could never be recovered.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Victoria received word from the police. Her face drained of color as her body began to shake uncontrollably.

She had failed. That seemingly unshakeable man had chosen Cherry in the end? And Cherry had dismantled her scheme so easily?

Fear washed over her like an icy wave.