HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 470

Chapter 470

The white lights on the ceiling burned painfully bright.

Daven sat upright in a metal chair, his hands folded neatly on the table. The air in the room was cold, sterile, and unnervingly silent. Across from him, two prosecutors stood side by side, in no hurry to open the folders in their hands-as if time itself had been deliberately slowed to test his patience.

There wasn’t much in the room. The most striking feature was the window to his right. From the inside, it looked dark but Daven knew there were people watching him from the other side. In this room, his only companion was the low hum of the air conditioner.

At last, one of the prosecutors slid a separate file forward. He opened the thick folder slowly, then placed it squarely in the center of the metal table. The heavy thud echoed in the confined space.

“Are you aware of this flow of funds?”

The overhead light seemed even harsher as the folder was pushed closer to him. Page after page of financial reports lay open-dense with numbers, signatures, and official stamps.

Daven studied the documents without haste. His gaze moved methodically, as if he were reviewing reports in a boardroom rather than under the glare of an investigation.

“Those funds were not under my authority,” he said at last, his voice calm and controlled. “This project was headed by Bret Frederick.”

The second investigator shifted in his chair, jotting something down. “But the final approval bears your signature.”

Daven lifted his gaze. His eyes were sharp, not defensive. “Project approval,” he replied firmly, “not fund distribution. There’s a very clear distinction.”

Silence settled over them again-not because they had run out of questions, but because they were choosing their next pressure point.

One of the prosecutors closed the folder slowly. “We’ve examined several holding accounts. Project funds were moved through shell companies.”

“Without my knowledge,” Daven answered immediately. “If you review the board meeting minutes from May and July, Bret is listed as the sole party responsible.”

“But as CEO,” the prosecutor said, his tone colder now, “you’re still accountable for negligence.”

Daven drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Structural responsibility is not the same as direct involvement.”

The prosecutor leaned forward. “Are you willing to cooperate fully with this investigation?”

“I’ve been doing exactly that since the moment I walked in,” Daven replied without hesitation.

Time dragged on. Question after question came without pause-about overseas projects, holding accounts, shell companies, and manipulated financial reports. Without him realizing it, hours had passed.

Chapter 470

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The later sessions strayed far from where they should have.

The questions began to circle, no longer focused on projects under Daven’s control, but drifting into matters that hadn’t appeared in the original files at all. Old decisions that had been closed years ago. Projects that had never even crossed his desk.

Daven began to recognize the pattern.

He answered only what was necessary. When the questions drifted into irrelevant territory-subtle traps disguised as inquiries-he lifted his head and said calmly, “For questions outside the scope of this investigation, I will wait for my lawyer to be present.”

At first, the two investigators pressed him to keep talking. But Daven could be just as unyielding. In the end, they relented, backing off the boundary he had drawn with unmistakable clarity.

Time dragged on.

Hour after hour passed without any real break. The overhead lights were never dimmed. The cold air bit into his skin, making his body stiffen further against the metal chair. Yet Daven remained cooperative-offering new evidence, explaining decision-making chains, pointing to meetings and dates with a precision that was difficult to dispute.

Again and again, he proved the same point: there had been no irregularities in the projects he directly oversaw.

But every time one gap closed, the investigation only seemed to tighten.

Finally, one of the investigators closed his folder with a soft but weighty sound. He stood and studied Daven for a moment, as if weighing something that wasn’t written in any document.

“There is no official detention order,” he said at last.

Daven lifted his head. His jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

“However,” the investigator continued, “the investigation will continue for a full week. And during that time, you will be under heightened supervision.”

The words made Daven look at him with a sharp, displeased gaze. This level of surveillance shouldn’t have been necessary. What was happening to him confirmed, one thing beyond doubt-Harold’s manipulation had truly seeped into the prosecution itself.

How much money had Harold poured in to bring him down? The thought almost made Daven want to laugh at the lengths Harold was willing to go.

“You’ll be escorted to a designated room where you can rest.”

There was little Daven could do but comply. He didn’t want to create trouble before Chris or Cale received word. Besides, this wasn’t entirely unfavorable-being inside the prosecution’s environment had its advantages. Still, his thoughts went to Althea and the children. He hoped Arsen could calm them, and that by tomorrow, the special counsel handling this case would arrive.

After hours in the metal chair, Daven finally stood. His muscles were stiff, his head heavy, but his gaze remained sharp, fully alert.

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