Chapter 3 - The Interrogation Room
The interrogation room smelled faintly of stale coffee, old floor wax, and decades of quiet desperation. A single overhead fluorescent tube buzzed intermittently, casting a harsh, sickly glow over the gray metal table and the two wooden chairs bolted securely to the floor. Eleanor sat alone, her hands still locked in the cold steel cuffs, resting heavily on the scarred surface of the table. Her blue satin dress was now permanently stiffened with dried cake frosting, and the scratch on her forehead had begun to throb with a dull, rhythmic ache. The heavy door finally creaked open, and Detective Marcus Vance—no relation to the billionaire dynasty, a fact he made clear within the first five minutes—stepped inside, carrying a thick stack of photocopied bank statements.
Marcus dropped the papers onto the table with a loud thud that made Eleanor flinch. He pulled out the opposite chair, sat down heavily, and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he studied her with tired, analytical eyes.
"You've been quiet for two hours, Mrs. Carter," Marcus said, his voice remarkably even, lacking the theatrical malice of Victoria or the cold calculation of Arthur. "That either means you are in profound shock, or you are calculating your next move."
Eleanor slowly raised her head, meeting the detective's gaze without flinching. "If I were guilty, Detective, I would be crying or begging for a deal. I am neither, because every single document in that file is an obvious, sloppy forgery."
Marcus raised a single eyebrow, flipping open the top folder to reveal a series of wire transfer confirmations routed through the Cayman Islands. "The routing numbers match your personal social security number and your thumbprint signature on the digital portal. The bank's cybersecurity team verified the digital footprint twenty minutes before the wedding ceremony began."
"A digital footprint can be spoofed by anyone with root access to the corporate mainframes," Eleanor countered sharply, her voice steady despite the dry rasp in her throat. "Arthur Vance controls the entire IT infrastructure of Vance Global. He could write my signature in his sleep if he wanted to."
"That is a very serious accusation against one of the most powerful men in the state," Marcus warned, though his tone lacked true conviction. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Mr. Vance claims you discovered the embezzlement scheme, panicked, and tried to frame Victoria with the heirloom necklace as a distraction before fleeing the country."
"That is completely backwards!" Eleanor hissed, leaning forward as far as the handcuffs would allow. "Victoria attacked me because she found out I was auditing the foundation's charitable grants. I found millions of dollars missing from the children's cancer wing, funneled directly into private accounts controlled by Arthur."
Marcus went completely still, his eyes narrowing as he processed her words. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a small digital voice recorder, and placed it on the center of the table. He pressed the red record button without breaking eye contact with Eleanor.
"Start from the beginning, Mrs. Carter," Marcus said quietly. "And leave nothing out."
Eleanor took a deep breath, preparing to expose the deepest, darkest financial secrets of the Vance family. But before she could utter a single syllable, the heavy metal door swung wide open with a violent crash that rattled the overhead fluorescent light.
A senior precinct commander rushed into the room, his face pale and sweating profusely, clutching a tablet computer in his trembling hand. He ignored the detective entirely, walking straight up to Marcus and thrusting the screen directly into his face.
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"Shut it down, Vance," the commander barked, his voice laced with absolute panic. "Orders from the Attorney General's office. She’s being released immediately."
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