Chapter 5 - The Interrogation Room
The interrogation room was cold, windowless, and smelled faintly of cheap disinfectant and stale coffee. The harsh fluorescent overhead light hummed a relentless, headache-inducing tune. I sat at the metal table still wearing my heavy white lace wedding gown, the yards of fabric pooling awkwardly around my high heels. The handcuffs had been removed, but my wrists still throbbed where the steel had bitten into my skin.
The heavy metal door clicked open, and Agent Miller walked in, carrying a thick manila folder and a steaming paper cup. He sat down across from me, placing the folder squarely in the center of the table before opening it to reveal a stack of printed financial reports.
“Let’s go over the timeline one more time, Sarafina,” Agent Miller said, his tone professional, stripped of any emotion. “At 4:12 AM, a series of encrypted packets authorized the transfer of eighty-two million dollars from the pediatric hospital endowment to an account registered under the name 'Apex Holdings.' The device used was your personal tablet, unlocked via your unique facial recognition profile.”
I rubbed my tired eyes, the heavy veil pinned awkwardly to my updo.
“I told you, I was asleep,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Julian had my tablet earlier that morning. He asked me to verify the seating arrangements for the reception. He must have scanned my face while I dozed off.”
Agent Miller slid a printed photograph across the table. It was a still frame from our home security camera in the master bedroom, time-stamped at 4:10 AM. It clearly showed Julian sitting on the edge of the bed, holding my tablet inches from my sleeping face, while I stirred slightly under the duvet.
A bitter taste rose in my throat. The proof was right there. He hadn't just framed me; he had planned every meticulous detail with terrifying precision.
“If you knew he was holding the tablet, why didn't you stop him?” Agent Miller asked.
“I was half-asleep! I trusted him!” I slammed my palm against the metal table, the sudden noise echoing in the small room. “Don't you see? He framed me because of his father’s foundation. He blames my family for its collapse three years ago.”
Agent Miller paused, leaning back slowly in his chair. He tapped a pen against the manila folder, looking at me with a new, calculating intensity.
“Your family’s real estate firm was cleared of any wrongdoing in that bankruptcy investigation three years ago, Sarafina,” Agent Miller said quietly. “However... the lead prosecutor on that exact case was Julian’s late father, who passed away under mysterious circumstances just weeks before the verdict.”
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The room seemed to shrink around me. Julian hadn't just married me for love or even for a simple revenge plot. He had married me to access my family's private estate archives, hidden inside a secure digital vault that only a legal spouse could unlock.
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