On the sofa, Derek was staring at the plastic bag in Arispe’s hands, his face completely drained of color.

The smug, arrogant look he had worn for years was gone, replaced by a hollow, desperate stare.

“Elena,” he whispered, his eyes pleading as the officer pulled him toward the front door. “Please. We can work this out.”

“There is nothing left to work out, Derek,” I said.

The officer nudged him forward, and Derek stumbled out of the apartment onto the concrete walkway.

Through the open door, I watched them lead him down the stairs in handcuffs, his head bowed.

Stephanie was led out right behind him, still screaming curses at me until her voice faded down the corridor.

The apartment was suddenly very quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioner.

I looked around at the expensive furniture, the designer bags, the remnants of my stolen life.

“We got it,” Marisol said quietly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “The hard drive is safe.”

“Do you think they can recover whatever she tried to delete?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.