CHAPTER 157: YOU DON’T DESERVE IT!!!

The room was dim, just a strip of sunlight cutting across the table. The sound of the officer’s boots faded as he left, closing the door behind him.

Miles sat quietly beside Singh. His calm eyes followed the man being escorted in.

Liam looked exhausted — pale face, dark circles, eyes red from sleepless nights. His hands were trembling when he sat.

The officer spoke, "Sir, I’ll step outside. You can have your talk."

Miles nodded. "Thank you."

The door clicked shut. Silence settled — heavy, almost suffocating.

Miles leaned forward slightly. "Hello, Mr. Liam. You don’t look good."

Liam gave a weak laugh, shaking his head. "Mr. Miles... I’m sorry, but if you came here to help me, I’m afraid you should go back."

"Why so, Mr. Liam?" Miles asked, voice calm but piercing. "Tell me the truth."

Liam lowered his eyes. "I’m guilty. It’s all on me. I deserve this."

Miles’s tone didn’t change. "Really? Then tell me... where is Stella?"

Liam froze. His pupils widened, lips parting slightly. Sweat started forming near his temples.

"I... she’s safe," Liam stammered. "I sent her to my mother-in-law."

Miles stared at him — quiet, unblinking. "Really? Because from what I know, she didn’t leave Star Harbor. She was here until yesterday."

Liam’s throat tightened. His voice cracked. "Mr. Miles, please... don’t get involved. They’ll—"

"They?" Miles’s voice dropped lower. "Who will hurt her?"

Liam clenched his fists. His eyes glistened.

Miles leaned in closer, his tone soft but commanding. "Look me in the eye, Mr. Liam. This is about your daughter. You don’t have to protect anyone but her. If you stay silent, you’ll rot in prison and she’ll grow up believing her father was a criminal. Is that what you want?"

Liam shook his head weakly. "If I tell you anything, they’ll kill her. Please... just leave."

Miles’s brows raised slightly, but his voice stayed gentle. "I promise you, I won’t let her be hurt. You have my word. Whatever is going on — it stays between us. The police won’t be involved. I just need the truth."

Liam’s lips trembled. His voice came out broken. "You... you promise?"

Miles nodded slowly. "I promise."

Liam looked up at him — and for the first time, a faint flicker of hope returned to his eyes. His hands clenched together on the table as if holding on to that promise like a lifeline.

"I’ll tell you everything, Mr. Miles," he whispered. "Just... please... make sure my daughter stays safe."

Miles gave a quiet nod. "You have my word."

The clock ticked softly. Outside, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Inside that cold room — a father’s fear met a soldier’s resolve.

Liam’s voice trembled as he began, the weight of weeks pressing down on every word. The air in the room thickened with the slow drip of truth.

"Last month..." he started, his voice barely above a whisper. "A new research and development team was deployed from Venus Foods HQ in South Korea to our Star Harbor factory."

Miles leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed on the man. Liam’s eyes darted nervously to the corners of the room — as if someone might be listening.

"The instructions from HQ were... clear," he continued. "The new team was there to ’develop new food products.’ We were told not to interfere. They brought their own staff, their own security, their own supplies. Everything was going smooth... until last week."

Liam took a long, shaky breath and looked at his trembling hands.

"The quality team sent me a report about the latest batch of food products," he said. "The tests were off — I mean way off. Indicators of toxins, chemical residues that had no business being in consumable goods. I ordered a recheck, thinking it was just a lab error. But the second report... came back exactly the same."

Miles’ expression tightened, but he stayed silent, letting Liam speak.

"As the managing director, I had to act. I put an immediate hold on production, and suspended distribution of the latest batch. I even issued an internal stay notice." Liam’s voice cracked. "Then I requested an international investigation — I wanted our food scientists to double-check everything. That’s when it all started falling apart."

Liam’s eyes flicked toward Miles, desperate for understanding.

"Our scientists discovered that the sterilization system had been compromised. Machines were being used overnight — by the new R&D team — without anyone’s authorization." His tone broke into disbelief. "They were using the same mixers, same dryers, the same equipment meant for food... but what they were producing—"

He swallowed hard, his throat drying up. "—what they were producing wasn’t food, Mr. Miles. It was something else. Something illegal, and toxic enough to be banned within a two-mile radius of any food production facility."

The air went still. Even Singh, usually unreadable, stopped writing.

Liam’s voice started shaking again. "I went down there myself... to the new storage wing they’d claimed for their operations. The smell— I still can’t forget it. They had sealed crates stacked in corners, machines running quietly, guarded by men who weren’t even on our payroll. When I confronted the lead researcher, he told me to leave — said I didn’t have clearance."

Miles clenched his jaw, anger barely contained. "And you didn’t?"

"I did," Liam said quickly, "I did stop them. I issued a halt order that very night. But... they didn’t listen. They said it was ’an HQ directive.’ So I called the CEO directly."

Miles folded his arms. "And what did he say?"

Liam gave a hollow laugh that died halfway through. "He told me to let them continue. Said it was a ’minor experiment’ and that nothing serious would happen from ’a little contamination.’"

He looked down again, voice hoarse. "I told him this was wrong. I said I’d report it to the authorities. He told me I’d lose my job, my house, and everything if I did."

Liam’s fingers tightened into fists. "But I didn’t care. I wrote the report anyway — I was going to lodge an official complaint the next morning. But somehow... the local Chief of Police got involved before I could even file it. He took my statement... and then sold it to the CEO."

Miles’ brows furrowed sharply. "He what?"

Liam nodded miserably. "The Chief was on their payroll, Mr. Miles. He warned me that if I moved forward, it wouldn’t just be me who’d disappear — they’d make sure my daughter did too. But it was already too late for them. One of our food scientists — the same one who helped me gather proof — sent the data to the Food Safety and Security Department before they could cover it up."

Liam’s voice broke again, trembling with guilt and fear. "Yesterday... I got a call. A man told me to take the blame myself — to confess to everything. Or they’d kill my daughter."

He looked up, tears forming in his eyes. "She didn’t come home from school yesterday, Mr. Miles. I waited. I called. Her friends said a black van stopped near the gate. And that was it."

Silence fell like a blade.

Singh lowered his pen slowly, looking at Miles, whose face had gone cold and unreadable — the kind of calm that came before something violent.

Liam’s shoulders shook. "Please... don’t let them hurt her. I did everything I could. I took the blame so they’d let her live. I’ll rot in prison, I don’t care — but please, just save my little girl."

Miles rose from his chair. His eyes — dark, unwavering — met Liam’s across the table.

"They’re going to pay for this," Miles said quietly. "Every single one of them."

The fluorescent light flickered once, humming softly in the tense silence.

Liam covered his face, sobbing quietly. Singh looked down at the table — even he could feel the weight of what was about to happen.

Miles straightened his coat and looked toward the door. His voice came low, steady, and terrifyingly calm.

"I’ll find her," he said. "And when I do... no one involved in this will walk away."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway as Miles and Singh stepped out of the interrogation room. The air outside was thick with murmurs — officers pretending to be busy, eyes occasionally flicking toward them, curiosity barely hidden.

Captain Sam was waiting, his face steady but clearly aware that something heavy had just taken place inside.

Miles’s tone was direct, leaving no room for small talk.

"Captain, who’s the Chief of Police here?"

Sam straightened. "Chief Thomas Marshall," he replied. "He’s about to come here in person.’"

Before Miles could speak again, a deep, slightly gravelled voice came from behind them.

"Well, who’s talking about me?"

The sound made every officer in the corridor stop what they were doing. The atmosphere shifted — tighter, colder.

They turned.

A man in his late fifties walked in, his posture still straight despite the visible age on him. Chief Thomas Marshall looked every bit the old-school cop — grey hair neatly combed back, sharp mustache trimmed to precision, his uniform polished enough to reflect light. The badges on his chest shone like trophies from a long career, and his gait carried the arrogance of a man used to command.

But behind that calm, his eyes — pale grey and sharp — gave away a predator’s calculation. He scanned the faces in front of him, and when his gaze landed on Miles, it lingered a second too long.

Miles didn’t move. He stood still, shoulders relaxed, but his presence alone pressed on the air like gravity.

"So," Thomas said, voice full of self-importance. "I hear someone wanted to meet me?"

Miles’s lips curved slightly — not a smile, more like a controlled sneer. His eyes didn’t blink.

"So you’re the Police Chief," he said quietly.

Thomas nodded once, proudly. "Yes. I’m the Police Chief. What is it?"

There was a pause. A faint hum of the lights above.

Miles took one small step forward, just close enough for his words to land like a blade.

"You don’t deserve it."

The hallway froze. Officers exchanged looks — nervous, shocked, not daring to breathe too loud.

Thomas’s smug expression faltered for the first time. He frowned, stepping closer. "What did you just say?"

Miles didn’t flinch. "You heard me."

Thomas’s jaw tightened. "And who the hell are you to tell me that?"

Sam instinctively took half a step forward, ready to intercept, but Miles raised a hand slightly, his gaze never leaving the Chief’s.

The silence between the two men was sharp — a storm waiting to break.