CHAPTER 137

The financial records Dr. Chen had given me painted a picture that was both better and worse than I'd expected. As I sat in the back of William's limousine, scrolling through the photographed documents on my phone, I began to understand the true scope of what we were dealing with.
"Productive meeting?" William asked, not looking up from his own tablet.
"Very," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "Dr. Chen has agreed to... refocus her investigation on more appropriate targets."
"Excellent. I knew you'd see the value in diplomacy over violence."
What William didn't know was that Dr. Chen hadn't just given me access to her congressional investigation files. She'd also provided me with something far more valuable - evidence of his own financial crimes spanning the past decade.
The records showed a pattern of money laundering, bribery, and contract manipulation that went far beyond simple trafficking operations. William had been systematically corrupting federal law enforcement agencies, using legitimate anti-trafficking task forces as cover for his own criminal enterprises.
But more importantly, the documents revealed something that changed everything: William had been working with my father for years before the supposed partnership began. Jack's trafficking network hadn't been an independent operation that William had later absorbed - it had been William's creation from the beginning.
My father had been William's puppet all along.
"There's something I need to discuss with you," I said carefully. "About the timeline of your partnership with my father."
William's fingers paused over his tablet screen for just a fraction of a second - so brief that most people would have missed it. But I'd spent eighteen years learning to read micro-expressions as a survival skill.
"What about it?"
"Dr. Chen's investigation uncovered some interesting financial connections. Transfers between your accounts and shell companies controlled by my father dating back nearly ten years."
"Thorough woman."
"Very thorough. She also found records of payments to the social workers who were supposed to be monitoring my welfare as a child." I watched his face carefully as I spoke. "Payments that ensured they would never dig too deeply into what was happening in my father's house."
William finally looked up from his tablet, his expression unreadable. "You're angry."
"I'm informed. There's a difference."
"And what exactly do you plan to do with this information?"
"That depends on what you plan to do with the men you're holding prisoner."
The limousine pulled up to another nondescript federal building, this one on the outskirts of the city where the architecture was more functional and the security was less visible but infinitely more lethal.
"Your friends are being held in a facility that doesn't officially exist," William said as we climbed out of the car. "The kind of place where people can disappear without paperwork or oversight. But they're comfortable enough for now."
"I want to see them."
"Of course. But first, I think it's time you understood the full scope of what we're building together."
He led me through a series of security checkpoints that required biometric scans and clearance codes I didn't recognize. The deeper we went into the building, the more I realized that this wasn't just a detention facility - it was a command center.
"Welcome to the real war room," William said, opening a door that revealed a space that looked like something from a spy movie. Wall-mounted screens showing surveillance feeds from dozens of locations, workstations manned by analysts tracking financial flows and communication intercepts, and in the center of it all, a conference table where several people in expensive suits were reviewing what looked like operational plans.
"Ladies and gentlemen," William announced, "I'd like you to meet our new Director of Special Operations."
The people around the table looked up at me with expressions ranging from curious to skeptical. I recognized two of them from the photos in Dr. Chen's files - federal prosecutors who'd been taking payments from William for years.
"Director of what, exactly?" I asked.
"The next evolution of law enforcement. Instead of playing defense against trafficking networks, we're going to control them directly. Regulate the industry, ensure humane treatment of assets, eliminate the truly brutal operators while maintaining the economic benefits."
I stared at him, finally understanding the full horror of what he was proposing. "You want to legitimize human trafficking."
"I want to acknowledge that it's going to happen whether we approve of it or not. The question is whether we let it remain in the hands of sadistic amateurs or bring it under professional management."
"Professional management," I repeated, my voice flat.
"Think about it, Skylar. How many girls could we save if we controlled the entire supply chain? How many lives could we improve if we ensured proper medical care, decent living conditions, fair compensation for services?"
"You're talking about slavery with benefits."
"I'm talking about accepting reality and working within it to minimize harm." William moved to stand beside one of the wall screens, which showed a map dotted with dozens of red markers. "These are all the trafficking operations currently active in the northeastern corridor. Amateur operations run by people who see human beings as disposable resources."
He touched a control panel, and the screen changed to show surveillance footage from inside one of the marked locations. Young women in cages, barely clothed, obviously drugged and abused.
"This is what happens when the industry remains unregulated," he continued. "But imagine if we controlled these facilities. Clean conditions, medical care, psychological support. The girls would still be providing services, but they'd be alive and healthy while doing it."
"They'd still be slaves."
"They'd be employees in a regulated industry with safety standards and retirement benefits."
I looked around the room at the faces of people who had convinced themselves that they were reformers rather than criminals. They genuinely believed that William's vision represented progress, that controlling and regulating human trafficking was more humane than eliminating it.
"And if I refuse to participate in this... evolution?"
"Then your friends die, those children in the photos continue to suffer, and you spend the rest of your life knowing you chose moral purity over practical results."
One of the analysts at a workstation looked up from his computer. "Sir? We're getting reports of unusual activity at the detention facility. Someone's been asking questions about federal prisoners who aren't in the system."
William's expression darkened. "What kind of questions?"
"Legal advocacy groups, civil rights lawyers. Someone leaked the existence of off-books detentions."
I felt a flutter of hope in my chest. Dr. Chen hadn't just given me those files as evidence - she'd used the information to start asking questions about where Harry, Jax, and Lucas were being held.
"It seems your hour is up," I said to William. "And Dr. Chen kept her word about making some phone calls."
"This changes nothing. Those lawyers will never find your friends, and even if they did, I have judges who will dismiss any habeas corpus petitions."
"Maybe. But now you have a choice to make. Release them and honor our agreement, or spend your time fighting legal battles while your empire crumbles around you."
William stared at me for a long moment, and I could see him calculating odds and weighing risks. Finally, he smiled - the same cold expression I'd seen on my father's face countless times.
"You're more like Jack than you want to admit," he said. "Always thinking you're playing a deeper game than everyone else."
"Am I wrong?"
"We'll see. Marcus!" he called to his assistant. "Arrange for our guests to be transferred to a more... official facility. It seems we need to adjust our timeline."
As Marcus hurried from the room, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just won a battle but might have lost the war. Because if William was right about me being like my father, then maybe the real question wasn't whether I could save Harry, Jax, and Lucas.
Maybe the real question was whether they could save me from what I was becoming.