Chapter 7: The Interrogation Room
The child advocacy room at the federal field office was designed to be warm and non-threatening, featuring soft pastel walls, a small table with drawing pads, and comfortable seating. Yet, for ten-year-old Leo Harrison, the room felt like a cage. He sat at the center table, wearing his crisp blue suit jacket, his arms tightly folded across his white shirt. His dark hair was still perfectly combed, but his jaw was clenched in stubborn defiance.
Across the small table sat Dr. Sarah Evans, a veteran child psychologist, alongside Marcus Vance, who observed quietly from the corner.
""You don't have to talk to us without your father present, Leo,"" Dr. Evans said gently, her voice soothing and even. ""We just want to understand what happened between you and Maya yesterday morning in the hallway.""
Leo let out a sharp, arrogant laugh, leaning back in his chair. ""I didn't do anything. That girl tripped over her own feet. Everyone at school knows my dad owns the place. She’s just lying because her mother is a bitter federal agent with a cheap wardrobe.""
Marcus watched the boy closely, noting the exact phrasing, the smug cadence, and the terrifying lack of remorse. It was clear Leo had been coached, but beneath the practiced arrogance, there was a desperate need to impress a father who valued dominance above all else.
""Leo, we have the security footage from the hallway,"" Marcus stated calmly, stepping forward into the boy's line of sight. ""We saw you walk up to her, block her path, and push her down the stairs with both hands. We also have audio of what you said afterward.""
Leo’s confident smirk flickered for a fraction of a second. His eyes darted toward the one-way mirror, as if expecting his father to magically burst through the wall and rescue him. ""My dad will fire you. He fires everyone who gets in his way.""
""Your father isn't here right now, Leo,"" Dr. Evans said softly, leaning forward. ""And money doesn't change what the camera recorded. When you hurt someone, hiding behind your father's wealth doesn't make the pain go away for the person you hurt. Why did you push her?""
Leo slammed his small fist onto the table, his face flushing crimson with sudden, uncontrollable rage—a stark contrast to the restrained composure his father always preached. ""Because she looked at me like I wasn't important! Nobody ignores me! My dad says winners take what they want, and losers complain about the rules!""
The confession hung heavy in the quiet room. Dr. Evans exchanged a brief, solemn look with Marcus. The psychological profile was complete: a child molded by unchecked privilege and toxic entitlement, mirroring the worst aspects of the corporate empire that built him.
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Outside the observation glass, Elena stood watching the entire exchange. Her expression remained serious and protective. She saw a boy who had been taught that human beings were merely obstacles to be crushed or assets to be bought. But as she watched Maya coloring quietly in the adjacent liaison room—her small arm in its cast, yet smiling as she drew a bright yellow sun—Elena knew that truth and justice were far more powerful than any corporate fortune.
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