Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Room
The sterile fluorescent lights of the municipal detention center hummed a monotonous tune over the battered metal table in Interview Room B. Julian Vance sat handcuffed to the bolted chair, his tuxedo jacket gone, his white shirt wrinkled and stained with sweat. He looked years older than the arrogant man who had shouted at Elena in the ballroom just thirty-six hours ago.
The heavy steel door swung open, and Elena walked in, wearing a sharp charcoal pantsuit, carrying a single manila folder. She did not sit down immediately; she stood over him, looking down with an expression of clinical detachment.
“They took my car, Elena,” Julian muttered, staring fixedly at the scratches on the steel table. “They took my passport. The bank accounts are completely locked down. Even my credit cards at the deli were declined this morning.”
“You expected sympathy?” Elena asked softly, finally pulling out the chair opposite him and sitting down. She opened the folder, revealing a series of photographic prints showing the scarred man and his operatives walking out of the corporate penthouse.
Julian flinched as he saw the photos. A deep, primal terror flashed across his eyes. “You... you saw Viktor?”
“So you do know who he is,” Elena said, leaning forward. “Viktor isn't a standard creditor, Julian. He represents a transnational consortium that deals in illegal resource extraction and money laundering. And you used Vance Global assets as collateral for a private gambling debt totaling forty million dollars.”
Julian squeezed his eyes shut, his hands shaking against the cold metal cuffs. “I had to keep the syndicates off my back. The stock market crash last quarter wiped out my private investments. I thought I could flip the Pacific Northwest land rights before anyone noticed.”
“Before anyone noticed?” Elena’s voice rose slightly, sharp as a razor. “That land belongs to indigenous preservation trusts and federal watersheds. You didn't just gamble with corporate money; you put our entire family legacy on the chopping block to pay off loan sharks.”
“Help me, Elena,” Julian pleaded, his voice breaking into a pathetic whine as he leaned toward her across the table. “You have the board’s backing now. You have Grandfather’s ear. Pay off Viktor’s syndicate. Settle the debt. We can fix this together.”
Elena stood up slowly, smoothing the front of her jacket. She closed the manila folder and picked it up.
“There is no ‘we’ anymore, Julian,” she said quietly. “The divorce papers were filed this morning. And as for Viktor? I told his men we wouldn't pay a single cent of fraudulent debt.”
May you like
Julian’s face turned the color of ash. He lunged forward, the heavy handcuffs rattling violently against the table bolt. “You didn't! Elena, if you don't pay them, they won't just ruin me—they’ll hunt you down before the week is out!”
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