The Ultimatum

The Jurist trial of October 2026 revealed many things about some of the most well-known personas of our time, not least of which was the dysfunctional relationship between the Gavin brothers. Kristoph Gavin, older brother of ex-Gavinner star Klavier Gavin, was revealed to be a forger and murderer — not a sub-heading that compliments his title as the 'Coolest Defense In The West'. However, while the murder charges were explained, this author has always wondered (and speculated) that the forgery Kristoph Gavin used against Phoenix Wright was not ordered with the intent to destroy his rival.

It has been proven several times trough trials, inquisitions and prior media releases that Mr Wright was in no position to forge anything. After all, he had less than a day to prepare for Mr Enigmar's trial. Is it really possible for him to have analysed the evidence, come to a devilish conclusion and then contacted Drew Misham to place his unethical order?

This author thinks not. Why the Law Association failed to see this gaping hole in the argument is a mystery but that Kristoph Gavin was present at the proceedings (that resulted in Mr Wright's loss) was no doubt a contributing factor. However, as this matter has been extensively discussed, there is little use in regurgitating it.

The question is this: if Mr Wright did not possess the time frame to order the forgery then who did? Reader, I believe you know, as well as I, that the answer is simple: Kristoph Gavin. And just like Mr Wright, he could have not acquired the forgery in such a short time and therefore, we must conclude that the deed was done long before his dismissal at Mr Enigmar's hand.

Which leads us to the next question: why would he have ordered a forgery when his trial was against his own brother?

Given the shocking circumstances of the case and the people involved, the trial was on centre stage with the whole world watching. There is no doubt the lawyers involved in the Gramarye case had much to gain. For rising sensation Klavier Gavin, the fame meant little and as he worked for the state, he hardly needed to attract customers. Mr Gavin, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Imagine how humiliating it would have been for the proud German should he lose such a high profile case to a greenhorn and — most importantly — his younger brother. The blow to his image and his clientele would have, no doubt, been great.

But now that we have taken a quick recap of this deeply disturbing case, let us journey back a couple of weeks beforehand. A source close to the Prosecutor recently revealed new information which could better help us understand the madness of Kristoph Gavin and the shocking decisions he made. It seems that in the Law-dominated world of these successful brothers lingered a void filled by that necessary evil — a woman. Being the world's most eligible bachelor has meant that up until now, every woman attached to Klavier has been subjected to the scrutiny of the media.

Or so we thought.

You see dear readers, I have recently had the privilege of discovering a secret so closely guarded that it has evaded even the most intrusive of journalists: at the age of 17, Klavier met and fell in love with a young woman who changed the course of his life. Her name is unknown as of yet but as a wise man once said, 'what's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet'... and would harbour all the same thorns.

She had everything, from his heart-melting voice to his considerable wealth. It is on good faith that I claim he would have made her a devoted husband but the heartbreaker sought something else. It is a sad but true fact that the playboy we know and love today is the product of her most forbidden desire... his brother, Defense Attorney Kristoph Gavin.

Herein lies the most important question of all: what did she mean to Kristoph Gavin?

And what did she do to the Gavin brothers?

.'.

Fury pumped through his blood like acid, eating away at his insides, corroding any sense of understanding. His cold eyes were lowered to the article on the desk where the words jumped out at him like venomous snakes:

GAVIN VS Gavin

Where did the rivalry begin?

She'd betrayed him.

There was no doubt in his mind as to the identity of this source. He'd never expected her to do something like this but now that she had, there was no surprise — there was no space in his mind for it. He was preoccupied with too many other things: how far this would spread, what his brother would say when he heard about it, what she would think (no doubt arrogantly assume he was still pining for her), how he was going to control the situation.

He turned around to where his band-mates were all silently watching him. One by one, they'd all come to see him and without saying a word had given him the stability and counsel they knew he would need. He knew part of their scrutiny lay in making sure he didn't do anything stupid but Klavier didn't care at the moment.

"Where is she now?" Seren asked quietly.

"Hiding, if she knows what's good for her," Raoul snorted.

"I have already tried to look for her," Klavier said. "She is not at work yet."

"She's the Skye chick, right?" Raoul asked. "Lana Skye's sister?"

Klavier nodded.

"What the hell was she thinkin'?"

"She believed I had told everyone we kissed."

"You kissed?" Deston said, surprised.

"Ja."

"And she freaked 'cause she thought you'd told people at work?"

"You didn't though?" Seren guessed.

Klavier said nothing.

"You need to make a statement," Deston said, turning the conversation in another direction. "Quickly, before they start assuming your silence is a confirmation."

"I will talk to the Fräulein first," he told them. "Then I will deal with the media."

The Gavinners looked at each other and even though the question in their eyes was evident, they said nothing. A long moment passed and then Raoul stirred, pushing himself to his feet. "I hate to do this to you but I gotta go, Gavin." He looked at Klavier seriously. "You need anythin', you call me."

"I have to go too, mate," Seren agreed, standing up as well. "Are you—"

"I am fine," Klavier said calmly. "Thanks for coming."

They understood that he wasn't fine but needed his space nonetheless so, with a nod at Deston, both of them left, quietly closing the door behind them. The drummer glanced at his friend and it was evident from the look on his face that, even if the other two had decided to grant Klavier some peace and quiet, he wasn't going anywhere.

"K," he started in a serious voice. "What are you going to do about her?"

Klavier stared a moment longer at the article and the words GAVIN VS GAVIN rippled beneath his gaze. What was he going to do with her? He knew he could fire her immediately and he would be justified. His superiors would understand once they knew what she had done. They wouldn't question him.

The problem was he didn't want to fire her. It would be too light a punishment for what she had done. He could tell everyone that she had kissed him of course — given the severity of her response when she had initially believed him of doing so demonstrated just how horrible the thought was to her. Then again, that would only be embarrassing for her. Everyone else would probably just be impressed or jealous that she landed one on him. That wasn't enough. Klavier needed something that would equal the trouble she had caused him; he would be dealing with the media for weeks, probably months. They would be in his past, in his present; they would be trying to get through to Kristoph and finding her, the mystery woman…

He could reveal all he knew about Colin but what would that achieve? She was not famous, she would not be subjected to the invasion of privacy he was already suffering. Even her colleagues would not be interested in her past. So what if she'd had a love interest that had hurt her? So did everyone else.

"K?"

He looked at Deston whose expression of concern somewhat irked him while simultaneously making him feel guilty. He knew his friend was only worried about him but he also wished for solitude.

"I do not know what to do with her yet," he admitted.

"I don't suppose you need to ask her why she did it." Klavier shook his head. "Will you fire her?"

"Nein," he answered. "That would be too easy."

Deston's expression turned wary. "Klavier…"

"She has single-handedly revealed my past with Serena and brought Kristoph into the equation," he said sharply. "The media do not know I kept the bitch a secret to punish her and even if they did they would not care. What little I salvaged for the Gavin name since Kristoph's trial has been ruined!"

Deston had the wisdom not to argue that point because no matter how much the world loved Klavier, he was their number one best seller — any story on the Gavins flew off the stands like crazy.

"K," he started quietly. "Why did you tell her?"

The prosecutor looked at him with icy eyes as if to determine whether or not his friend was chastising him but when he saw the genuine curiosity in Deston's gaze, he looked away. Remembering his reason for telling her, Klavier was reminded of the vulnerability of Ema's expression, the hurt that had been on her face at the reminder of Colin, and he softened.

"I wanted her to trust me," he said. "I believed if she trusted me, I could help her."

"Do you love her?"

Klavier turned on him with surprise. "What?"

Deston shrugged. "It's not like you go around telling all the women that need help how your own heart was broken."

He surveyed Deston's expression. "The only reason you know is because you witnessed my relationship with Serena. I concede, telling Ema was an unusual move," he said calmly and the drummer smiled, "but I do not love her."

"Does she love you?"

"Nein."

"Then why did she kiss you?"

"A kiss does not necessitate love. Besides, I was angling for a compliment," Klavier confessed. "My self-deprecation irritated her sufficiently that she believed kissing me was the only way to reinstate my self-confidence."

Deston's face flickered and for a moment he looked like he desperately wanted to say — do — something but then his expression fell back into its calmly logical position. "You don't love her," he said with the air of a man trying to figure something out, "but you feel something for her, don't you?"

Klavier saw little point in denying it but the fact irked him. "What does it matter? The woman has betrayed me and she does not even possess the decency to face me."

The other Gavinner quirked an eyebrow. "Do you blame her?" The blond glared at him and he raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, all I'm saying is, it sounds like she regrets what she did. She probably left just to see if she could stop it."

Klavier snorted. "Stop the media? Ha."

"It doesn't mean she didn't try," Deston continued. "And from what you've told us about the Fräulein—" (the emphasis earned him a dirty look) "—she's not the type to fear you. It sounds to me as though she's more ashamed than scared. That should count for something."

"It does not," he said coldly. "She did this because she assumed the worst of me, as always."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Do not try and play word games with me, Deston," Klavier warned. "I am not in the mood for them."

Deston sighed. "I'm not playing with you, K," he said patiently. "I just want to help. I don't want you to do something you'll regret later."

"I will not."

"Fair enough," Deston said calmly and Klavier looked at him, suspicious of the agreeability of his tone. "Answer me one question—don't dodge it—" the prosecutor rolled his eyes "—what exactly do you feel for her?"

Klavier frowned. What did he feel for her? It was an alien question. At this point in time, he wanted nothing more than to find her and take hold of her and—

And what? What exactly would he do? How could he lift a hand to…to…

Unbidden, a vision of her crossed his mind; she was clad in the same gown she had that night, the milky tone of her skin gleaming like moonbeams in the darkness of his vision. His body reacted to the sight, torturing him and he groaned, sinking into his chair with a curse. How could he be feeling this way even now? How could he desire her when she'd done what she had? She'd screwed him over for Christ's sake! How could his body betray him?

And yet there was already a part of his mind that was reconciling with the physical response to thoughts of her. It was, he realised, something he'd been aware of for some time but hadn't really acknowledged: he didn't love her — but there was a part of him that wanted her, wanted her more than he'd wanted any woman since Serena. It was enough to tell him that it went beyond his physical desire. she had rejected him and he hadn't pushed her. He'd respected her wishes and backed off.

He'd cared.

"It doesn't hurt If you don't care," Deston said quietly, having seen the look on Klavier's face.

"She does not care," Klavier answered, ignoring Deston's deduction.

"I don't think that's true," he argued.

"Sie irren sich," he muttered.

The prosecutor leaned back in his chair. Images of her flitted across the white canvas of the ceiling as a thousand questions spun through his mind. It didn't matter how philosophical Deston got with his questions — something inside him couldn't let go of his anger, the betrayal that was still running through him. He had opened up to her. She was the first woman he'd bared himself to in seven years and she had used it against him without a thought.

What else can I expect? he thought bitterly. She cares nothing for me. She is still so caught up in the past, she believes—

Deston's eyebrows shot up in surprise when Klavier sat up suddenly, his back arched.

"Perfect."

The drummer's wary look slowly turned to alarm at the look on Klavier's face. "What is?"

But the prosecutor had already called for his secretary. "Call Detective Skye and tell her she is needed. I do not care where she is. Her presence is required in my office immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Klavier leaned back in his chair, a satisfied spreading across his lips and Deston barely suppressed the irritated tone of his voice. "Aren't people going to talk if you—"

"Nobody knows she is the source," Klavier cut in. "I have kept that to this room."

Deston rubbed his temple. "Do I want to know what you're up to?"

"She has betrayed my trust and ensured weeks — months — of the media prying into my relationship with mein bruder." Klavier smirked. "I have just thought of something that will simultaneously punish for the former and eradicate the latter."

"Klavier—"

"I am killing two birds with one stone," the prosecutor said in a gratified tone, clearly not listening to his friend.

"I hope you don't cut yourself throwing it," Deston muttered.

.'.

Ema seriously considered suicide after the call. It burned through her mind like a flash fire, spreading down her body.

He was calling her into work. He knew.

She'd hoped he wouldn't but she guessed that was akin to sticking her head in the sand in the face of an oncoming storm. How would staying at home help? She realised, as she got up from her place on the sofa, that not turning up at work had been completely the wrong thing to do: she never missed work — doing so had probably only added to his suspicion.

There was no point in dressing up for work when Ema knew she would probably be leaving the precinct pretty much straight after he was done. Her unsteady hands reached for the keys on the table where she'd thrown them the previous night after coming home and made her way out of the front door.

The truth. She would tell him the truth — that it had all been one big mistake made in anger, that despite her best attempts to stop the publishing of the article, Ema had been unsuccessful. Maybe if she'd been dealing with Lotta Hart or Spark Brushel, she could have asked them to stop but the woman she had met had been ruthless and entirely unwilling to give up the story. Ema had had no chance.

Her car seemed to sense the impending doom too — it gave her far more trouble than ever before as she journeyed to her destination. With each spin of the wheel that it reluctantly took her forward, Ema's heart thudded wildly in her chest. She couldn't remember feeling this afraid since Lana's arrest; even when Klavier chastised her (and he had, most prominently after she'd withheld evidence during Daryan's trial) she'd never been frightened.

But now she was terrified and it was because she knew she was wrong.

Her feet were heavy as she stepped through the building entrance. Instead of the usual elevator, Ema chose to ascend the stairs. She knew it was silly and all she was doing was prolonging the dread pounding inside her but soon, she would be out of a job and she rather thought she preferred this feeling than to the crippling failure that would sweep through her.

"Skye," someone called out her name. "Prosecutor Gavin was looking for you."

Ema didn't have the energy to answer. She plodded on until she found herself standing before his office door, lifting one hand and rapping her knuckles on the wood. There was no sound but before she could try it again,it swung open, nearly giving her a heart attack.

"Detective Skye." Deston Cavatin nodded at her from the frame, his expression serious. "Come in."

He stepped aside to let her pass and Ema threw him a worried look. Oh God. Was she going to be subjected to an audience?

"Close the door, Deston," said another voice and she froze in her tracks at the sound.

She couldn't look at him. She couldn't.

"I'll be downstairs," Deston said, looking over her shoulder before turning his eyes on her. They were silver and sharp and they fell on her assessingly. Ema resisted the urge to gulp and barely managed to respond when the drummer nodded at her as he left.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed around the silence.

She was scared to turn around.

She was scared to look at him.

She was scared to breathe.

"May I ask why you did not come to work this morning, Fräulein?"

Shit.

His voice was genial, the question calm and normal… but the sound of his voice wasn't. He asked it silkily, leaving no room for misunderstandings.

He knew. And they both knew he did.

"Shall I hazard a guess?"

Ema squeezed her eyes shut. Was it her imagination or did his voice sound closer? A part of her wanted to turn around and check but the coward in her had completely taken over.

"Or will you, by any chance, admit the truth to me?"

Turn around. Turn around and face him.

Oh, but how could she? How could she look him in the eye and—

"Ema."

His voice was suddenly in her ear and she jumped half a foot in the air but when her feet hit the ground again, she turned to look at him and almost stumbled at his expression. His eyes were icy, his mouth set in a grim line and every sharp curve of his face was harshly enhanced by fury.

"For all your assurances that I am not repulsive," he hissed, "you punished me rather severely for believing I had publicised our kiss."

"W-What are you talking about?"

Oh dear God. Why had she said that?? She'd planned on admitting to her mistake, apologising and leaving. Why was she lying?

"You do not know?" he whispered, lowering his face until it was inches from hers. "You have no idea what I mean?"

Actually, as she looked into his face, the answer was pretty clear. She was lying because Klavier's wrath was terrifying her. "Klavier," she tried again, hoping her voice wouldn't give out. "Can you tell me what this is about?"

She instantly knew that was the wrong thing to say because he smiled. He took a step toward her and instinct made Ema step to the side, knowing if she kept moving backwards she'd be trapped between him and the door but Klavier followed her.

"Are you telling me," he said in a low voice as continued his approach, "that you have done nothing to warrant admonishment?"

Ema sidestepped him again. "All I'm saying is I have no idea what's made you so angry," she said, cringing inside because they both knew she was lying.

"Then why are you scared?" Klavier enquired, moving closer.

"Because I don't like that look in your eye!" Ema said frantically, no longer caring that she was hastily retreating.

Klavier seemed to freeze, just for a moment, and then he was before her so suddenly that she didn't know how he'd got there so fast. She jumped back in surprise and let out cry when her legs collided painfully against his desk; he took advantage instantly, pressing into her but there was nothing sensual or provocative in his behaviour now — it was designed to intimidate and frighten. Her heart almost stopped when Klavier reached for her but then his arm sneaked around her, to the desk, and when he withdrew, his hand was holding up the article she had tried so hard to avoid.

"This is not your doing?"

Ema shook her head without even looking at it. "N-No."

Klavier straightened, looking down his nose at her. His expression was blank save for the slight raise of an eyebrow. "Then you told someone."

Ema shook her head again. "No!"

"This is most strange, Fräulein," he said in a soft voice. "Because aside from you, her and myself, there are only four other people in the world who knew. Are you accusing my best friends of betraying me?"

"Of course not!" She could see the look in his eye, the one that dared her to cast suspicion on Daryan but she wasn't so far fallen she would hurt Klavier by bringing up a sensitive subject when she knew Crescend wasn't responsible. Ema licked her lips nervously. "How do you know s-she didn't do it?"

"Because she knows not to cross me!" he snarled. "She would not dare do something so stupid!"

Ema was smart enough not to respond to that: she was frozen, terrified and fascinated by the look of pure fury that spilled into his features again.

"You were the first person I told!" he snapped. "Anyone else who knew only did so because they were involved or witnessed it. There was no one else, Ema!"

"Klavier—"

"You have betrayed me." He was looking at her with an expression that pierced her chest painfully. "You betrayed my trust."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I was angry and I—"

"So you thought plastering my secrets across the tabloids was the way to alleviate yourself of this anger?" Klavier shot at her.

"I wasn't thinking straight!" she said in a pleading voice. "I just thought you'd told everyone—"

"Enough!" he roared, cutting her off midstream. "I do not want to hear your half-baked excuses!" He marched away, spinning around his desk as if he couldn't stand to be near her. "I did not expect this from you."

Ema wanted to cry. It was an odd feeling that swept through her given she wasn't really the victim here — he was the one who would be suffering. Still, there was something inside that seemed to be falling apart and even though she didn't understand it, she knew it hurt.

"I—" She stopped, almost choking on her own voice and took a deep breath, blinking rapidly against the growing warmth in her eyes. "I'll clean out my desk."

Klavier turned towards her slowly, an odd look on his face. "Clean out your desk?" he echoed. "Do you think I am going to fire you?"

"Aren't you?" she said miserably.

A soft laugh escaped him and she glanced up at him, surprised by the sound.

"Fire you?" he said, shaking his head as he hitched his thumb in his belt and sauntered over to the door. 'Fräulein, you fire someone when they smash your guitar—" Ema's heart fell to her feet and she glanced to the cabinet where a handsome guitar had once sat "—or when you fail to accord your boss the proper respect."

She didn't like the tone of his voice and when he fell against the door, one boot rising to rest on the wood while his arms crossed over his chest, Ema knew something was wrong.

"What you have done, Fräulein Detective," he carried on in that silky smooth voice, "is lump me with months of fighting off the media, who were already crazed enough with the imprisonment of my best friend and brother. They will never let this go." One hand lifted from the confine of his arms and fell to the doorknob. "Unless they find something bigger to talk about."

"W-What are you saying?"

Her eyes widened in shock (and some fear) when he suddenly locked the door.

"You are going to help me resolve this mess you created."

"How?" Ema asked, taking a step backwards. "I'm not a journalist."

"It is simple," Klavier said with a shrug. "You marry me."

Her heart stopped. She felt it give one mighty thump in a desperate attempt at breaking out of her chest and then it fell silent, as if it had used up the last trickle of energy left. The silence cloaked them thicker than before and they stared at one another, icy blue eyes meeting blank green ones with unwavering determination.

"Marry you?" she whispered.

"Ja," Klavier said nonchalantly. "My engagement to someone such as yourself will drive the media wild. When they get wind of this, they will forget this nonsense you brought up."

Ema was so stunned she barely noticed that he had just insulted her.

"And this way, I can also keep you from talking about anything else. After all, if I suffer, so will you." His mouth lifted at the corner, amusement evident in his face as he took in her expression. "There is no need to be horrified. It is not as though I am an unattractive man. Some even say I am the most eligible bachelor of this decade."

"Marry you?" she echoed, unable to wrap her mind around the words, the concept.

"It would not be all bad. I desire you with a burning passion—" his mouth curled and for a moment he looked like he was disgusted with himself "—and I know that you are not unaffected by me either."

"I can't marry you!" Ema announced, horrified. "I don't love you!"

The curve of his lips turned into an outright sneer. "That much is evident Fräulein. I do not wish to marry you for love either."

Oh my God. He's serious.

"Are you insane?" she gasped, starting to feel the first twinge of anger.

Klavier's eyes flashed dangerously. "I worked long and hard to bring back some of the honour to the Gavin name. I worked tirelessly to reinstate the good grace of my parent's legacy and in one night, you destroyed it all." He glared at her fiercely. "You got me into this predicament Fräulein and you will help me out of it."

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I know what I did was wrong and I regret it! I tried to stop it from going to print when I realised how wrong I—"

"But it was only when you realised, was it not?" he cut in abruptly. "If I had indeed revealed our kiss, the kiss which you initiated—"

"I was doing it because you wouldn't shut up about how—"

"You are not so stupid that you honestly believed kissing me was the only way to stop me talking!" Klavier shot at her savagely. "Face it, Ema, you did not have to kiss me at all! You did it because you are attracted to me. You just do not have the courage to admit the truth!"

She was temporarily stunned into silence by the turn of his argument but she knew it was no use trying to tell him he was wrong. Drawing herself up to her full height, Ema looked Klavier straight in the eye. "I'm sorry for what I did, I really am and I'll do whatever I can to help you. I'll even go to the media and tell them I lied," she said calmly. "But I'm not marrying you."

No emotion registered on his face. Klavier stared at her with a levelled gaze and then he nodded. "Akzeptabel. I will see you in court, then."

Ema felt her hands tingle. "Court?

No… He wouldn't…

"Court," Klavier repeated.

"What do you mean, you'll—"

But he was smiling now, a sinister look on his face. "Come Fräulein Detective," he said smoothly. "Do you think I would let you walk out of here without paying some sort of price? Every crime requires a punishment. You should know that best of all."

"You want to sue me?" she whispered, horrified.

"Nein, I do not want to sue you. It would be far less convenient and effective to sue you but if you will not marry me, then yes," he raised an eyebrow, "I will release you from this job before I take you to court and strip you of every single thing you possess: from that fine house to the test tubes in that satchel you like to carry around. I will clean you out. And," he added with a cold smile, leaning forward, "we both know that the prosecutor will show no mercy."

"But I said I would help you any way I could!" she protested. "I told you I'll go to the media and—"

"You think they will be interested in listening to a story that will not sell?" Klavier sneered. "Your 'help' will be of no help at all."

"Klavier, please," Ema begged. "Please don't do this. I know I was wrong but think about what you're asking me to do. You can't expect me to marry you!"

"Which is more unreasonable, Ema? I, asking you to marry me or you expecting me to forgive what you have done, to let you walk away while I deal with this mess?" Klavier pushed himself forward, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I kept her a secret because I wished to punish her. What do you think she will do when she reads this article? What do you think my brother will say when he finds out? And he will, no matter what prison he rots in. Verdammt!" He raked a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. "As if the theories on the relationship between Kristoph and I were not convoluted enough without a woman!"

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, truly repentant — she could see the flicker of dread in the depth of his eyes and she felt awful for being the reason behind it. "I didn't think."

"Well think about this, Ema—" Klavier settled his gaze on her again, clearly unmoved by her apology "—I am giving you a choice, which is more than you gave me: if you marry me and help me to clean up this mess, I will not leave you wanting for anything. I will not cheat. I will care for you."

Her insides tightened at the words but she was numb, frozen by the coldness of his ultimatum, and she said nothing.

"However," he continued, his eyes blazing with fire, "if you choose to say no, I will clean you out. You will not have a home or a job and your dream of one day becoming a forensic scientist will remain just that— a dream."

"You..."

Klavier paused, waiting for her to finish her sentence but Ema couldn't utter another word, made speechless by the ruthlessness of his warning.

"I will also target the journalist and the newspaper she works for," he went on emotionlessly. "I can throw so many libels at them they will not have the money to buy a sheet of plain paper, let alone run a company."

Her hands trembled. "You wouldn't."

"If you will drag my family's name through the mud, I will do the same to you. Imagine the disgrace: one sister accused of forgery and the other responsible for the loss of hundreds of jobs." An emotionless laugh escaped him. "I wonder which is worse?"

Hot and cold flashes hit her all over like tiny needles and her vision blurred. She felt dizzy and sick.

"It is your choice," he reminded her flippantly and crossing his arms again. "You can marry me and redeem yourself, watch your status rise with mine, enshrouded in wealth and success…" Ema looked up at him but his expression was empty, "…or you can deny me and lose everything, including what little goodness was left attached to your name."

Unexpectedly, she thought of her parent's home — the only memory she had left of them — in the hands of another. Her parent's clean legacy utterly and fully soiled by an immature act; at least Lana's crime had been motivated by love and fear for her sister.

Ema had done what she had out of pure stupidity and recklessness.

"One way or another, Ema," Klavier said, coming to stop before her, "I will take you to court."

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered inaudibly.

"I did not warn you because I never believed you would bring me to this point but I thought it was pretty clear, Fräulein," he said harshly, leaning in, "that I am not a man to be crossed."

Ema looked away, biting her lip in a bid to stop herself from crying. She would not break down. She would not spill tears in front of him. When Klavier brushed past her, Ema said nothing because she did not know if she could be trusted to speak.

"You have until tonight," he announced from behind her. "At 9 I will be at your door and I will expect an answer."

Ema wasn't even surprised anymore. It had fast become clear he didn't care about anything but damage control. Without a word, she walked briskly to the door, knowing she was dismissed. She couldn't talk, couldn't think. She needed to get out of his office, out of his presence so she could clear her mind. Whatever his ultimatum was, she needed to come to terms with what she had done, to understand the gravity of the situation she had landed herself in. She needed to take responsibility before she attempted to process the situation and figure out a solution. And she would. She would find a—

"And, Ema," his casual tone drifted after her retreating form, "do not attempt to run. You know I will find you, no matter where you go."