Page 134 of Make Them Cry
“I still can’t believe it was her,” whispers one developer behind me.
“I mean, yeah, she was cold,” another adds, “butmurder?”
I sip my coffee slowly, letting the voices wash over me. No one’s whisperingabout metoday. For the first time in… forever.
My inbox is full of polite messages from HR and Legal, most asking for my cooperation or sending formal apologies. I haven’t answered any of them yet. I don’t need a corporate apology. What I needed wasGage—and I got him.
And today, the world is watching the rest of the dominos fall.
“Holy shit,” someone mutters near the breakroom.
I look up just in time to see two uniformed police officers walking through the glass doors at reception.
The whole office goes still.
Like someone pressed pause on a video game mid-action.
“Is that…?”
“Tasha,” I murmur under my breath, rising from my desk.
She’s standing near her desk, spine straight, lips parted slightly in surprise as the officers approach. She doesn't resist—doesn’t flinch—but there’s a flicker of disbelief in her eyes as they read her rights and place her in handcuffs.
My heart thuds.
I knew this part was coming. Gage had warned me. Helena’s confession implicated multiple people—Tasha among them. She had been the internal eyes and ears, planting stories,manipulating the pipeline to isolate me, feeding Helena my movements. And worst of all, she helped erase digital breadcrumbs after the murders.
She turns her head just as the officers lead her toward the exit, and for one breathless moment, our eyes meet.
I don’t look away.
She does.
Whispers fill the silence again, growing louder.
“Wait—Tasha?!”
“She wasin on it?”
“Is this some kind of movie?!”
It feels surreal.
Not triumphant. Just… complete.
Like a wound closing.
I return to my desk, heart racing, hands shaking slightly. Gage is out today—handling a few last meetings with Maddox Security and finalizing statements for the legal team. I had offered to come with him, but he kissed my forehead and said,“I think this time, you deserve to be the one walking through those doors proud.”
He was right.
And it turns out… I am.
“River?”
I glance up to see two of my coworkers—Justin and Marla—lingering awkwardly near my desk.
Justin clears his throat. “We, uh… just wanted to say we’re sorry.”
