The first thing Aham noticed was the way Clara listened.
Not like the others had.
Not with pity.
Not with curiosity.
She listened like a woman hunting for truth.
They sat across from each other in the prison visitation room, separated by thick glass and years of silence. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of the past pressed heavily between them-the orphanage, the promises, the lives they never lived.
"You disappeared," Aham finally said.
"So did you," Clara replied gently.
She studied him closely. The confident heir he had once become was gone. In his place sat a man carved by loss-eyes sharper, shoulders heavier, hope worn thin.
"I'm innocent," Aham said quietly. "I swear it."
Clara didn't hesitate. "I know."
Those two words cracked something open inside him.
Over the next few days, Clara returned again and again. Each visit lasted hours. She asked precise questions-about documents, meetings, signatures, conversations that had seemed meaningless at the time.
Aham told her everything.
The rosy marriage.
The sudden paperwork.
The night of his arrest.
Kelly's disappearance.
Clara took notes, her expression tightening with every detail.
"This wasn't sloppy," she said one afternoon. "It was surgical."
She requested access to his case files.
What she found made her blood run cold.
Accounts transferred through shell companies. Documents notarized by a firm with long-standing ties to Don Pedro. Witness statements altered just enough to fit the narrative.
"This is a setup," she murmured.
Clara worked late into the nights, cross-referencing records, chasing paper trails others had overlooked. She discovered missing audit reports, a whistleblower silenced years earlier, and a mysterious fire that had destroyed evidence connected to Don Pedro's past dealings.
The deeper she dug, the clearer the pattern became.
Aham wasn't the criminal.
He was the sacrifice.
One evening, Clara sat alone in her office, staring at an old newspaper clipping she had found buried in a forgotten archive.
ARMSTRONG COUPLE DIE IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT.
Her eyes narrowed.
The accident details were vague. No eyewitnesses. No proper investigation. And oddly-Don Pedro's company had benefited almost immediately afterward.
Her hands trembled.
"This goes deeper," she whispered.
Weeks later, Clara filed a motion that shook the courthouse.
She presented new evidence. Expert testimonies. Financial inconsistencies the prosecution could no longer explain away.
The media watched closely this time.
Aham stood before the judge, his heart pounding as Clara spoke with quiet authority.
"This case," she said, "is built on lies, forged documents, and deliberate manipulation. My client was framed."
The judge ordered a review.
Days passed like years.
Then finally-
The verdict was overturned.
Aham walked out of prison under a sky that felt impossibly wide.
But freedom felt strange when everything had been taken.
His name was still stained.
His wealth was gone.
His enemies untouched.
Clara stood beside him as reporters shouted questions.
"We're not done," she said firmly.
That night, Aham sat alone at a bar, nursing a drink he barely tasted. Freedom hadn't brought peace-only clarity.
As he stood to leave, he noticed an old woman sitting near the entrance, her clothes worn, her eyes sharp despite her age.
On impulse, Aham reached into his pocket and handed her a few bills.
"For food," he said softly.
She looked up at him-and smiled.
"Kindness hasn't left you," she said.
The next morning, Aham received an invitation.
A private address.
No explanation.
When he arrived, he nearly stopped breathing.
The "old woman" sat at the head of a long table, dressed in elegance that screamed power. Around her were executives, lawyers, and screens filled with data.
"I knew your parents," she said calmly. "And I know who took everything from you."
Aham's pulse thundered.
"You have been watched," she continued. "And you have been chosen."
For the first time since his fall, Aham felt something dangerous rise inside him.
Hope.
And this time
It came with teeth.
---