"I... I can tell you names," Zhao whispered, his eyes darting frantically between the detective and the thick file on the table. "I can give you the accounts. But I need a deal. You have to promise me I won't go to prison."
"The detective leaned forward, resting his forearms on the cold metal. "I'll give you this. You work with us, and if your information actually leads us to recover the money, maybe the prosecutor will consider taking a few years off your sentence."
Zhao stared at the detective, his mouth hanging slightly open as the harsh reality set in. The hope of walking away scot-free vanished instantly, replaced by the grim certainty of a prison cell.
You could continue like this:
"A few years off?" Zhao's voice cracked. "That's it?"
The detective didn't blink.
"You're accused of stealing millions of dollars, Zhao. What exactly were you expecting?"
Zhao ran both hands through his hair and laughed bitterly.
