Chapter 7
The interrogation room at the metropolitan police precinct smelled of stale coffee, old paper, and cheap disinfectant. The walls were painted a dull, depressing institutional gray, broken only by a large two-way mirror mounted on the far wall. Eleanor Sterling sat at the scarred metal table, her hands cuffed loosely to a bolted loop. Despite the indignity of the orange jumpsuit she wore over her clothes, her posture remained rigid, her gray hair pulled back into its familiar, tight bun. She looked less like a criminal suspect and more like a disgruntled CEO waiting for a board meeting to begin.
The heavy steel door clicked open, and Officer Vance walked in, carrying a thick binder filled with printed financial statements and forensic accounting summaries. He pulled out the opposite chair, sitting down with a deliberate, heavy thud.
Eleanor raised an eyebrow, her expression cool and dismissive. “I demand to speak with my legal counsel immediately. This detention is entirely politically motivated, and my attorneys will dismantle your case by the end of the day.”
“Your attorneys are currently reviewing the same evidence I have in front of me, Mrs. Sterling, and I suspect they are drafting resignation letters as we speak,” Vance said evenly, flipping open the binder. He slid a stack of documents across the metal table. “Attempted first-degree murder is a serious charge. But when we combine it with four million dollars in grand larceny, wire fraud, and corporate embezzlement across three international jurisdictions, you are looking at the rest of your natural life behind bars.”
Eleanor didn’t flinch. She glanced down at the documents without touching them. “Unsubstantiated allegations. A clever concoction put together by a disgruntled employee and a grieving, manipulated young woman who clearly suffers from delusions.”
“We have the 4K security footage from your own home showing you physically pushing Clara over a ten-foot drop,” Vance reminded her, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table. “And now we have the digital paper trail of every single dollar you stole from the Sterling trust. The illusion is over, Eleanor. There is no escape hatch.”
A microscopic flicker of genuine panic crossed Eleanor’s face, instantly masked by a cold, hardened glare. “Clara knows nothing about running an empire. She is a naive child playing dress-up in a world she doesn’t understand. I built those portfolios. I expanded the foundation’s reach. Your precious little heroine would have bankrupted the estate within a year.”
“That’s for Clara to decide, not you,” Vance stated firmly. “And judging by the conversation she and Julian had with the district attorney this morning, she understands the business far better than you gave her credit for. She’s already authorizing a complete forensic audit to reclaim every stolen cent.”
Eleanor’s jaw tightened. For the first time, the realization that her empire had crumbled penetrated her armor. She had underestimated Clara’s resilience, and she had fatally underestimated Julian’s loyalty and technical expertise.
“She will regret this,” Eleanor whispered, her voice dropping an octave, carrying a venomous chill. “The corporate world is a shark tank. Without me steering the board, the Sterling name will be devoured by competitors before the month is out.”
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“Then it’s a good thing she has people like Julian by her side to help her fight,” Vance replied, standing up and gathering his binder. He tapped the table twice before turning toward the door. “Enjoy your stay, Mrs. Sterling. Your arraignment is scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
***
