Chapter 6
Detective Miller, a veteran investigator with sharp gray eyes and a demeanor that brooked no nonsense, stepped up to the cake table first. He wore latex gloves, carefully sliding a sterile plastic bag over the silver spoon left on the floor and sealing it. Then, turning his attention to Chloe, he nodded for her to step forward. Chloe handed over her smartphone, unlocking it to display the raw security footage once more. Miller watched the clip twice, his expression hardening with every passing second as he observed Julian’s calculated movements at the loading dock.
"That's definitive enough for a warrant," Detective Miller muttered, looking up from the screen to sweep his gaze across the room before locking eyes with the suspect. He walked over to where Julian sat flanked by private security. "Mr. Vance, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." The formal Miranda warning echoed in the cavernous, half-empty hall, stripping away the last remnants of Julian’s former life. The guards stepped back as the police officers moved in, clicking cold steel handcuffs around Julian’s wrists with practiced efficiency.
As they hoisted him to his feet, Julian finally broke his silence. He didn't look at Olivia, nor did he look at his brother. Instead, his eyes fixed on the ceiling with a chilling, detached calm. "You're all fools," Julian whispered, his voice raspy and devoid of remorse. "You think this ends here? You have no idea what was riding on this. You think love pays the bills? You think a pretty wedding fixes a mountain of debt?" The ugly truth slithered out into the open, a pathetic rationalization for cold-blooded murder.
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Olivia flinched at the sound of his voice, a fresh wave of nausea rolling through her stomach. Debt. Financial ruin. That was the currency for which her life had been bartered. Julian had taken out a massive, fraudulent life insurance policy on her just three weeks prior, naming himself as the sole beneficiary under a complex web of shell companies. The wedding was never a celebration of union; it was the grand finale of an execution staged for maximum public cover, designed to make her sudden, mysterious demise look like a tragic health anomaly or an allergic reaction to a contaminated ingredient.
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