Chapter 4
The stranger in the gray suit pulled out a small leather wallet, displaying a gold shield and an identification card bearing the name Detective Marcus Vance—no relation, Julian quickly noted, though the coincidence felt heavy with irony. Detective Vance closed his wallet with a soft snap and tucked it back into his jacket pocket, his sharp, observant eyes scanning the hospital room before settling entirely on Julian.
"Mr. Julian Vance?" the detective asked, his voice gravelly and devoid of unnecessary warmth. "I’m Detective Vance with the Metro Police Department's Financial Crimes and Special Investigations division. I need to ask you a few questions regarding a series of recent transactions involving your corporate accounts."
Julian blinked, completely bewildered. He gently squeezed Mia’s hand, reassuring her with a soft smile before standing up to face the detective, keeping his voice hushed to avoid disturbing the resting child. "Financial crimes? Detective, you must have the wrong person. My corporate accounts are managed by my firm, and my personal life is currently falling apart in this very hospital. What is this about?"
Detective Vance pulled a folded sheet of heavy paper from his breast pocket and handed it to Julian. "Your firm’s accounts, yes. Specifically, a series of automated wire transfers initiated over the past six months totaling over two hundred thousand dollars. They were funneled through an offshore shell corporation registered under a pseudonym. And according to our preliminary digital footprint analysis, the access credentials used to authorize those transfers originated from your home IP address."
Julian stared at the paper, his mind racing through the numbers, the dates, and the logistics of his household. "That’s impossible. I haven't authorized any such transfers. My business partner and I are the only ones with the administrative keys to—" He stopped abruptly, the words dying in his throat as the image of Elena sitting at his home office desk flashed across his memory. Elena, who always managed his household logistics, who handled the mail, who constantly asked for more financial independence.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Vance?" Detective Vance pressed, noticing the sudden pallor of Julian’s skin. "Or is there someone else in your household who might have had access to your private credentials?"
Julian slowly raised his head, looking past the detective toward the narrow glass window of the hospital room door. Out in the hallway, through the frosted glass, the silhouette of a tall figure in a dark red sparkly evening gown was visible, standing completely still, watching them with an intensity that felt predatory.
"My wife," Julian whispered, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. "My wife had access to everything."
"Your wife, Elena Vance," the detective stated, pulling out a small notepad and a silver pen. "Funny thing about that. We ran her background before coming here. Elena Vance isn't her real name. She changed her legal identity five years ago, right before marrying into prominent local families with substantial trust funds. You aren't her first husband, Mr. Vance. And according to our records, your predecessors didn't just lose their money—they all suffered tragic, fatal accidents."
Julian staggered backward, his knees bumping against the edge of the hospital bed as the room seemed to spin violently around him.
"Accidents?" Julian choked out, his voice cracking with rising terror. "What kind of accidents?"
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Detective Vance looked down at his notes, his expression grim. "Falls, Mr. Vance. Always fatal falls from high places."
Before Julian could process the full, terrifying scope of the trap he had walked into, the overhead hospital speakers crackled loudly, broadcasting an urgent code red alert for the pediatric emergency wing.
