Chapter 4
The holding room of the precinct smelled faintly of old floor wax and stale coffee. The harsh fluorescent light hummed overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow over the metal table where Julian sat with his hands cuffed lightly in front of him. He hadn't asked for a lawyer. He hadn't raised his voice. He simply waited, staring at the scarred surface of the table until the heavy steel door creaked open.
Detective Vance walked in, tossing a thick manila folder onto the table before pulling out a chair and sitting down heavily. Vance was an older man with tired eyes and a posture that spoke of decades dealing with the worst parts of human nature.
“Your bride is outside in the lobby, Mr. Vance—sorry, Mr. Hayes,” the detective muttered, correcting himself as he glanced at the paperwork. “She’s asking a lot of questions you probably aren't going to like answering.”
Julian didn't blink. “Maya deserves the truth, but she won't get it from a police report. She needs to hear it from me.”
“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to write her a letter,” Vance said, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. “Because right now, forensics ran the lab work on that glass. It wasn't just a paralytic. It was a custom-formulated compound designed to induce total respiratory failure within two minutes. That wasn't self-defense, son. That was premeditated murder.”
Julian let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Premeditated? No, Detective. That was just catching a falling knife.”
Vance narrowed his eyes, sensing the deep waters beneath the groom's calm exterior. “Explain.”
“Clara didn't just stumble into our wedding tonight,” Julian said softly, his voice dropping an octave as he finally met the detective's gaze. “She spent the last three years destroying everything I built, and two weeks ago, she found out Maya was pregnant. She wasn't trying to poison a glass of wine for fun. She was eliminating my family before it even started.”
Vance frowned, tapping a finger against the manila folder. “That’s a heavy accusation against a woman currently in intensive care on life support. You have proof of this?”
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Julian slowly slid a small, encrypted flash drive out from the lining of his suit cuff, placing it gently on the table between them. “Everything is on here. Every threat, every stalker report the police ignored, and the exact audio recording of Clara planning this murder.”
Vance stared at the flash drive, then slowly reached out and picked it up. Just as he turned it over in his hand, the interrogation room door flew open without warning.
