As they rounded the corner, Jonathan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, a text from Marcus lighting up the screen. “You’re going down for this, Jonathan. Hope you enjoy prison.”
“This is bad,” Jonathan whispered, dread pooling in his stomach. “He’s already planned it.”
“What do you mean?” Sophie asked, glancing nervously around them.
“He’s framing me. If he can show evidence that I was involved in the embezzlement, it doesn’t matter what you have,” Jonathan said, each word weighing heavier than the last.
“But how?” Sophie’s eyes widened, panic rising again.
“He must have documents staged to look like they came from me. If we don’t act fast, my name will be ruined, and I’ll lose everything,” Jonathan replied, his voice shaking.
They reached the loading dock, where boxes lay strewn about, but it was eerily quiet. Jonathan felt a chill run down his spine. “Marcus knows we’re onto him. He’s ready to play dirty.”
