Chapter 12: The Final Truth
The interrogation room at the state police barracks smelled of stale coffee and damp wool. The single overhead fluorescent light hummed softly, casting a harsh glare across the metal table where Ethan sat with his hands cuffed to the bolted loop. The door swung open, and Detective Vance walked in, carrying a manila folder filled with printed bank statements and forensic cell-tower logs.
Vance sat down opposite Ethan, opening the folder without looking up. "The defense attorney you requested is twenty minutes away, Mr. Vance. But I suggest you use this time wisely, because the federal prosecutor has already signed off on the grand jury indictments."
Ethan kept his gaze fixed on the scuffed metal surface of the table. His black suit, once a symbol of mourning, now felt like a prison uniform. He drew a long, slow breath, his shoulders sagging as the desperate facade finally crumbled away entirely.
"I didn't kill her," Ethan whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. "I stole the money—I admit that. The energy merger failed, and my company was facing bankruptcy. I intended to pay it back once the venture capital round closed. But I never laid a hand on Claire."
Vance looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Then who pushed her down the stairs, Mr. Vance? The physical evidence places someone in that foyer at midnight. The security log matches your private access code."
"It wasn't me," Ethan said, looking Vance squarely in the eye. "It was someone who had access to both my credentials and the house keys. Someone who stood to inherit everything if Claire exposed the theft."
Vance didn't flinch. "Are you accusing Julian?"
"Julian doesn't have the brains to execute a multi-million-dollar corporate fraud, and he certainly doesn't have the cold detachment to cover up a murder," Ethan said quietly. "Look at who benefits the most from the foundation’s restructuring if both Claire and I are removed from the board."
Vance leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "You’re talking about Eleanor."
"Eleanor runs the entire endowment like a personal fiefdom," Ethan said, his voice gaining strength. "She knew about the shortfall months ago. She let me dig my own grave with the stolen funds so she could use my financial crimes as leverage to seize total control of the corporate assets. Pendelton wasn't working for Claire—he was Eleanor’s fixer from day one."
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Vance stared at Ethan for a long, agonizing moment, then slowly reached into the folder, pulling out a handwritten note on Claire’s personal stationery. "We found this inside Claire’s locket when the mortician prepared her for the viewing. It was written twelve hours before she died."
Ethan read the frantic handwriting across the page: If anything happens to me, look in Mother’s private safe. She isn't saving the foundation—she’s liquidating it.
