Chapter 690: Michael Fear..

The response from the police came later that afternoon, after Dayo had spent most of the morning trying to keep himself occupied. Felix was the one who received it first, and when he walked into the room with his phone in hand, Dayo already knew from his expression that something had changed. He stopped near the desk and waited for Felix to finish reading the message before asking what it said.

"The meeting has been approved," Felix said. "The police have agreed to let you see Michael. It will be supervised, and they have set a time for it. No phones, no recording equipment, no private materials, and the officers will remain close enough to intervene if they think there is a problem."

Dayo listened without interrupting. The conditions did not surprise him. He had asked for an authorised meeting, and he had expected the police to protect themselves as much as they protected Michael. After everything that had happened, nobody was going to allow an unsupervised conversation between the man who had supplied the evidence and the man whose world had been exposed by it.

"When?" Dayo asked.

"Later today."

Felix looked at him for another moment before adding that the IRS had also acknowledged the separate request concerning Silas and that their review was still being handled internally. Dayo only listened to that part before returning his attention to the police approval. He knew the meeting with Silas would come separately, and he had no intention of mixing the two men together in his head.

"Fine," he said quietly. "Let’s go."

At the police station, Michael had no idea what was waiting for him.

The last several days had begun to blur together. He had lost track of how many times he had stared at the same walls, how many meals had arrived without anyone asking what he wanted, and how many times he had been reminded that his former privileges no longer existed. His devices were gone, his private communications had been cut off, and even the lawyers who had once been able to arrange almost anything for him now had to work through proper channels.

He had been told clearly that visitors were not part of his current arrangement.

That was why the officer’s appearance at the holding area confused him.

"Michael Erickson, you have a visitor."

Michael looked up from the place where he had been sitting and stared at the officer for a moment. "A visitor?"

"That’s what I said."

"I was told I wasn’t receiving visitors."

The officer did not seem interested in arguing about it. "I’m only relaying the instruction. Get up."

Michael stayed where he was for another few seconds, trying to understand what had changed. "Who is it?"

"I wasn’t told."

That answer bothered him more than the visit itself.

For years, Michael had survived by knowing who was moving, who was paying, who was watching and who was asking questions. Uncertainty had always been something he pushed onto other people. Now he was the one sitting inside a holding area without enough information to understand why somebody had suddenly been allowed to see him.

His mind moved through the possibilities.

It could be someone from his old network who had finally found a way to reach him. It could be someone powerful enough to override the restrictions around him, perhaps someone who needed reassurance that Michael was not going to cooperate with investigators. There was also the possibility that the commissioner wanted something from him and had decided to handle it personally.

Michael briefly considered his lawyers, but that explanation did not feel right. They would not appear without notice, and there was no reason for the officer to be acting as though he had been given a simple instruction rather than a normal visitor’s name.

Still, whatever the reason, a visitor was better than another hour staring at the same walls.

He stood and followed the officer.

The walk through the station felt longer than it should have. Michael kept trying to work out what kind of person could have been approved to see him under the restrictions that had been placed on his custody. Nothing made sense, and the lack of an answer made him increasingly uncomfortable.

When the officer opened the meeting-room door, Michael stepped inside.

He turned toward the person waiting for him.

His mind stopped.

For several seconds, Michael simply stood there.

Dayo was sitting on the other side of the table.

He was not angry. He was not shouting. He was not leaning forward as though he had come looking for a fight. His expression was calm, almost empty of emotion, and that was what frightened Michael most.

Every possibility Michael had considered on the walk over disappeared at once.

He had expected someone from his network.

He had considered the commissioner.

He had considered a lawyer.

He had never considered Dayo.

"What are you doing here?" Michael asked, but the question came out weaker than he intended.

Dayo did not answer immediately. He watched Michael remain near the door while the officer instructed him to take his seat. Michael looked as though he wanted to refuse, but he eventually pulled out the chair and sat across from Dayo.

The officer remained nearby, then stepped back far enough to give them the appearance of privacy without actually giving them privacy.

Dayo waited.

Michael shifted in his chair. "I thought I wasn’t getting visitors."

"You weren’t supposed to," Dayo said.

Michael stared at him. "Then how are you here?"

"I asked for permission."

The answer seemed almost too simple for Michael to process.

"You asked them?"

"Yes."

Michael looked toward the officer, then back at Dayo. "Why?"

Dayo rested both hands on the table and looked directly at him. "I wanted to see you."

Michael gave a short, frustrated laugh, but there was no confidence behind it. "You came all the way here just to see me?"

"I came because there are things I wanted to say to you while I could look you in the face."

Michael’s expression changed slightly.

Dayo remained quiet for a moment longer before continuing. "You should calm down. Nobody is going to hurt you here. I’m not here to touch you, and I’m not here to cause a problem with the officers. You are safe as long as you remain inside the rules of this place."

Michael swallowed and leaned back.

The irony was not lost on him. He had once been the man who could make other people afraid of what might happen if they crossed him. Now Dayo was sitting across from him, reassuring him that nobody was going to hurt him.

"You always thought I was hiding something," Dayo said. "You spent a lot of time trying to work out how I was moving so quickly, how the business was growing, how the music was doing what it was doing. You convinced yourself there had to be something behind it."

Michael looked down for a moment.

"You were wrong," Dayo continued. "But that isn’t why we’re here."

Michael’s voice became sharper. "Then why are we here?"

"Because you knew things about me. You knew things about my family. You knew enough to understand what mattered to me, and you still decided to use it."

Michael’s face tightened.

Dayo’s voice remained steady. "You couldn’t beat me in business. You couldn’t beat me in the music industry. You couldn’t accept that I kept growing while you were trying to understand how. So you decided to go somewhere else."

Michael looked away.

"My daughter," Dayo said.

The room became quiet.

"You went after my family because you couldn’t win against me directly."

Michael looked back at him. "I didn’t—"

"Don’t."

Dayo did not raise his voice, but Michael stopped.

"I know what happened. I know who was involved. I know what you did, and I know what you thought would happen after you did it."

Michael’s breathing became heavier.

Dayo continued without changing his tone. "I had evidence against you before everything came down. I knew enough about your background to cause serious damage. I knew about your history. I knew where your money moved. I knew about the structures around your companies. I knew more than you thought I knew."

Michael stared at him.

"Then why didn’t you use it?" he asked.

Dayo held his gaze. "Because I wanted to know how far you would go."

That answer disturbed Michael more than an accusation would have.

Dayo leaned back slightly. "I could have gone after you earlier. I could have tried to destroy you personally. I could have dragged your family into it. I could have used information about your private life against you. I didn’t."

Michael shook his head slowly. "You don’t understand what you’re talking about."

"I understand exactly what I’m talking about. You wanted to hurt me because you couldn’t accept what was happening in front of you. You thought I was using something. You thought I was getting ahead through something you couldn’t identify. Instead of accepting that you had misjudged me, you kept looking for a reason that would make your version of the world make sense."

Michael’s eyes became hard again. "You don’t know what you are talking about."

"I know enough."

For a moment, neither man spoke.

Michael’s thoughts were racing. The evidence that had appeared, the pressure that had suddenly fallen on his companies, the financial questions, the investigations, the people who had stopped answering calls, the accounts that had come under review and the growing uncertainty around the label had all seemed like separate events.

He suddenly understood that they had not been separate.

"Was it you?" Michael asked.

Dayo said nothing.

"The evidence."

Still nothing.

"The financial records. The information about the companies. The files they had. Was that you?"

Dayo looked at him.

"I supplied it."

Michael froze.

The answer was so direct that for a moment he seemed unable to react.

"You?"

"Yes."

Michael’s chair moved slightly as he shifted backward. "No."

Dayo did not argue.

Michael looked toward the officer as though somebody else might explain what was happening, but the officer remained where he was and said nothing.

"You did all that?" Michael asked.

"I gave the evidence to the people who needed it."

"You knew all this time?"

"I knew enough."

Michael put a hand against his forehead. The thought was becoming impossible for him to contain. The person he had dismissed, the man he had spent so much time trying to understand and undermine, had been sitting on information capable of bringing his operation down.

The realization was humiliating.

Then another thought struck him.

"My label."

Dayo said nothing.

Michael’s voice became urgent. "What have you done to my label?"

"I haven’t done anything to your label."

"Don’t lie to me."

"I’m not."

Michael leaned forward. "I have people telling me there are questions everywhere. Partners are pulling back. Transactions are being reviewed. People are asking about records that were never supposed to be outside my office. My lawyers are telling me things are happening and I can’t even make a call. You know what’s happening."

"I know what I gave investigators."

"You know what that means."

"I know what evidence means. What happens after that is for the institutions handling it."

Michael stared at him.

Dayo continued, "I’m not sitting outside calling banks and telling them what to do. I’m not telling investigators what conclusion to reach. I gave them information. They decide what to do with it."

Michael’s frustration turned into desperation. "Then stop."

Dayo looked at him.

"Please."

The word seemed to cost Michael something.

Dayo remained still.

"Whatever you want," Michael said. "Whatever it is, take it. Take the label. Take the money. Take whatever you think you need. Just stop this."

Dayo’s expression did not change.

"You still don’t understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"I don’t want what you have."

Michael stared at him.

Dayo’s voice remained quiet. "You keep thinking this is about taking your things from you. It isn’t. You made choices. Those choices are being investigated. If the records show wrongdoing, the authorities will deal with it. If the banks find something they need to restrict, they will make that decision. If your business partners decide they don’t trust you anymore, that’s their decision."

Michael shook his head. "You know what you’re doing."

"I know exactly what I’m doing."

"You want me to sit here and watch everything fall apart."

Dayo paused.

"Yes."

Michael’s face changed again.

Dayo did not soften the answer. "You wanted me to watch my family suffer. You wanted me to feel helpless. You wanted me to understand what it meant to have no control over what happened next. I’m not going to do to you what you did to me, because I’m not you. But I am not going to save you from the consequences either."

Michael looked down at the table.

His label had been one of the few things he had always considered untouchable. It was more than a company to him. It represented years of work, influence and control. He had built relationships around it and used it to establish a position that made other people careful about crossing him.

Now he could not even reach his own office.

"You were supposed to be nothing," Michael said quietly.

Dayo looked at him.

Michael lifted his head. "That’s what I thought. You were supposed to be somebody who would eventually get tired and disappear. I thought you were using something. I thought there had to be a reason you were moving the way you were moving."

"You spent too much time trying to prove that."

"I was right about something."

"What?"

"You weren’t supposed to get this far."

Dayo looked at him for several seconds. "That’s the problem, Michael. You spent so much time deciding what I was supposed to become that you stopped paying attention to what I actually became."

Michael had no immediate answer.

The officer shifted slightly near the door, reminding them both that the meeting had limits.

Dayo checked the time.

Michael saw it and became restless again. "You’re leaving?"

"Yes."

"You came here just to tell me this?"

"I came here because I wanted you to understand who brought the evidence to them."

Michael’s voice dropped. "Why?"

"Because you should know who you were fighting."

That answer left Michael staring at him.

Dayo stood and pushed his chair back.

Michael remained seated, but his expression had changed completely. The anger was still there, but something underneath it had begun to collapse. He had spent so long believing Dayo was an opponent he could eventually understand, pressure or remove.

Now he understood that the man had been moving without him knowing the full extent of it.

As Dayo turned toward the door, Michael spoke again.

"Are you going to take everything?"

Dayo stopped.

"I don’t need to."

Michael looked at him.

"That’s what you still don’t understand," Dayo said. "I don’t have to take it from you. I just have to stop protecting you from what you already did."

The officer opened the door.

Dayo walked out without looking back.

Michael remained in the room, staring at the empty chair across from him.

For several seconds, he did not move.

Then he lowered his head into his hands.

The meeting had lasted less than an hour, but Michael felt as though something much longer had happened. Dayo had not threatened him. He had not touched him. He had not demanded money or control of the label. He had simply come into the room and forced Michael to understand that the person he had spent so long looking down on had become the person standing over the remains of everything he had built.

When the officer eventually returned to escort him back, Michael stood without arguing.

Outside the meeting room, Dayo found the police commissioner waiting nearby.

The commissioner looked at him carefully before speaking. "How was it?"

"It was fine."

"Did he cause any trouble?"

"No. He was angry, but nothing happened."

The commissioner seemed relieved. He walked with Dayo toward the exit, keeping his voice low. "I appreciate you keeping the conversation within the arrangement we made. There are things surrounding Michael’s operation that should remain inside the investigation."

Dayo understood what he meant.

"There won’t be a problem," he replied. "I have no reason to discuss things that don’t concern me."

The commissioner gave a small nod. "Thank you. That matters."

They continued toward the exit, and after a moment the commissioner added, "You should also understand that what happens to Michael’s companies now is not in your hands or mine alone. The evidence will be reviewed properly."

"I understand."

"Good."

The conversation ended there.

Dayo stepped outside and walked toward the car where Felix was waiting.

The commissioner stayed behind for a moment, watching him leave.

Something about the meeting bothered him.

He had already known that the anonymous source was intelligent. The evidence had made that clear. What he had not understood was how personally connected the source was to Michael, or how comfortable that person would be walking into a police station and sitting across from a man whose operation had been dismantled partly because of the information he supplied.

Once Dayo was out of sight, the commissioner returned inside.

He went to his office, closed the door and sat behind his desk.

A senior officer entered after being called.

The commissioner looked at him for a moment before speaking.

"I want everything we can legally establish about Jason Dayo."

The officer waited.

"His business history, public records, known companies, professional relationships, anything connected to the evidence we’ve received. I don’t want speculation. I want what we can verify."

"Do you think he’s involved in anything?"

The commissioner considered the question.

"No. But I want to know who we’ve been dealing with."

The officer nodded and left.

Outside the station, Dayo opened the car door and sat beside Felix.

Felix waited until the car pulled away before asking, "How was he?"

Dayo looked through the window for a moment before answering. "He’s angry."

Felix gave a small laugh. "I would imagine."

"He wanted me to stop what was happening to his label."

Felix turned toward him. "And?"

"I told him I wasn’t stopping anything."

The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds before Felix laughed again, this time unable to hold it back. "I wish I could have seen his face."

Dayo looked at him and finally allowed himself a faint smile. "You don’t want to see his face."

"After everything he did?"

"You still wouldn’t want to."

Felix settled back into his seat. "Maybe you’re right."

Dayo turned toward the window again.

For the first time since Michael had entered his life, there was nothing left for him to prove to that man. Michael had spent years believing Dayo was beneath him, then spent months trying to understand how Dayo kept moving forward, and finally crossed a line that brought his entire world crashing down around him.

Dayo had walked into that room because he wanted Michael to see the person who had been standing on the other side of the battle all along.

He had seen him.

Now Dayo could leave the rest to the people whose job it was to handle what came next.

For the moment, that was enough.