Chapter 7: The Midnight Interrogation
The rain began to lash against the tall glass windows of the estate, turning the dark night outside into a blur of silver streaks. Inside the grand library, the heavy oak doors were locked from the inside. The air smelled of old leather, rain, and the faint, bitter scent of black coffee that Arthur had poured from a silver pot into a delicate porcelain cup.
Sitting across from Evelyn at the large mahogany desk was Agent Vance—no relation to Julian, a sharp-eyed federal investigator named Miller who had taken personal charge of the case once the ledger was handed over.
Agent Miller flipped through the yellowed pages of David Sterling’s recovered ledger under the harsh glow of a brass desk lamp. He stopped at the final entries scrawled in Julian’s handwriting, tracing a line with the eraser end of his pencil.
“This changes everything,” Miller said, looking up from the desk to meet Evelyn’s cold, unblinking gaze. “Embezzlement and wire fraud are white-collar crimes. People serve five, maybe ten years, and they’re out on parole with millions stashed in overseas accounts. But premeditated murder for financial gain? That carries life without parole. In this state, it can carry the maximum.”
“Julian was never a mastermind,” Evelyn said, her voice flat and analytical. “He was an opportunist with a taste for luxury and zero conscience. But someone helped him execute the transition. My grandfather trusted his inner circle implicitly. Julian couldn't have accessed the medical records or altered the bylaws without an accomplice sitting right here at this table.”
Miller raised an eyebrow, leaning back into his leather chair. “You suspect someone on the new board?”
“I suspect everyone until proven otherwise,” Evelyn replied without hesitation. “Julian didn't have the administrative brilliance to hide forty million dollars across twelve shell companies in the Caymans, the Isle of Man, and Zurich. He needed a financial architect. Someone who knew the loopholes in our corporate tax structure better than our own auditors.”
Miller closed the ledger with a soft rustle of aged paper. “We intercepted Julian’s encrypted hard drive before the automated self-destruct protocol wiped it. The cyber unit is decrypting the files as we speak. By sunrise, we’ll have the complete roster of every shadow account, every co-conspirator, and every secondary beneficiary tied to the Vance Holdings umbrella.”
Just then, a sharp knock sounded at the library door. Arthur unlocked it and pulled it open to reveal Margaret holding a glowing tablet in her hand, her face pale under the recessed lighting.
“Evelyn,” Margaret said, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation. “You need to see this. The cyber unit just pushed an automated alert through our corporate security channel. Someone is attempting a massive override from an internal terminal.”
Miller stood up instantly, his hand dropping toward the service weapon at his hip. “An internal terminal? Inside this house?”
Margaret shook her head. “No. Not the house. The downtown penthouse. The encrypted backup server located in Julian’s private study downtown just initiated a remote data dump to a receiver in the Cayman Islands.”
May you like
Evelyn stood up from the desk, her black dress sweeping the floor as she moved toward the door. “Julian is in custody at the federal holding facility. He doesn’t have access to a terminal.”
“Which means,” Miller said, his eyes narrowing sharply, “he left someone behind who knows the master override code.”
