Damien was driving back to the Ashford mansion after work. The road ahead stretched into darkness, flanked by skeletal trees and the kind of silence only emptiness could breed, no headlights, no voices, just the quiet before a storm.
His phone started ringing. Seeing 'Clara Reeve' on the screen, he answered casually, perhaps hoping Scarlett would agree to work for him against Aveline.
[Director Ashford…] Her voice was soft, stripped of its usual spark.
Damien waited for her to continue, but she stayed quiet longer than necessary. "What's up, Reeve?"
[It's over. We're caught. I…I lost my license.]
Damien whirled the wheel aside to park the car and demanded, "What are you talking about?"
There was a long sigh over the call. [Before we wiped the evidence, Scarlett Fournier got her hands on the original records. Someone was keeping an eye on me, maybe you too. Prestige Associates was seized today. Lost its license, too. Everyone involved is caught. You're next.]
Damien: "..."
