Chapter 12
The interview room at the downtown precinct was unnaturally quiet, save for the rhythmic humming of the overhead ventilation unit. The metal table reflected the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, casting stark shadows across the stack of financial documents, audio transcripts, and forensic reports spread out before Detective Miller.
Derek Vance sat across the table, handcuffed to the steel eyelet bolted into the center of the surface. He wore his dark suit without the jacket, his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, but the aristocratic arrogance that had defined him at the estate was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating silence. His legal counsel—a high-priced defense attorney named Sterling—sat rigidly beside him, frantically reviewing the forensic extraction logs.
Officer Vance stepped into the room, holding a printed transcript of the decrypted audio files recovered from the flash drive sewn inside Lily's doll. He tossed the packet onto the metal table, right in front of Derek.
"The cybercrimes unit finished the extraction three hours ago," Miller said, his voice calm, steady, and devoid of triumph. "Turns out Clara Vance wasn't just planning a divorce, Mr. Vance. She had been recording your business meetings, your private phone calls with offshore shell companies, and the conversation in the master suite on Tuesday night."
Sterling adjusted his glasses, scanning the first page of the transcript before looking up at his client with sudden alarm. "Derek... what is this?"
"It's fiction," Derek muttered, his voice cold and flat. "Inadmissible hearsay obtained through illegal wiretapping and unlawful seizure of personal property by a compromised minor."
"It's a complete paper trail of embezzlement, tax fraud, and domestic conspiracy," Officer Vance corrected, leaning forward over the table. "Not to mention the audio file recorded in your bedroom at eleven-thirty p.m. on Tuesday. We hear Clara screaming. We hear Eleanor instructing you to hold her down. And then we hear the precise moment her pulse stops."
The room fell into an absolute, suffocating silence. Sterling slowly closed the folder, pushing his chair back an inch from the table. He looked at Derek with a mixture of professional disgust and self-preservation. "Mr. Vance, under these circumstances, my firm is officially withdrawing from your representation."
Derek didn't blink. He stared straight ahead at the metal wall, his jaw set in a hard, unyielding line. "You can't prove intent," he whispered, the first crack in his armor finally showing. "It was an accident. She was unstable."
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"The medical examiner's revised autopsy report, backed by Clara's sworn deposition to her divorce attorney, says otherwise," Miller replied, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "You're being charged with second-degree murder, conspiracy to commit fraud, and witness intimidation of a minor. Eleanor Vance is being brought in for questioning as we speak."
As the heavy metal door swung open to transport Derek to maximum security, the legacy of the Vance dynasty officially shattered into dust against the cold concrete floor.
