Chapter 8 - The Holographic ProofOn the massive digital screen mounted at the front of the boardroom, the forensic tablet projected crystal-clear security footage.
The room watched in stunned silence as the video played.
There was Vivian, standing in the bright Lake Forest kitchen. There was her face, twisted in cold malice, pouring a clear, viscous liquid into Grant’s silver morning chalice. And right beside her, captured in high-definition audio, were her exact words: People who poke their noses into things that don't belong to them usually end up choking on their own ambition.
A collective gasp echoed through the room. Board members recoiled, staring at Vivian as if she were a ghost.
Vivian gripped the edges of her chair, her knuckles turning bone-white. Her carefully constructed mask of elegance shattered completely, revealing a cornered, screeching animal.
"It’s a deepfake!" Vivian shrieked, standing up so fast her chair fell backward onto the carpet. "Grant fabricated this! He hired this—this little nobody orphan to frame me! You all know what he’s capable of!"
"The chemical analysis of the residue in the vial matches industrial-grade aconite derivative," a calm, clinical voice spoke up from the doorway.
Dr. Alistair Vance, an independent toxicologist hired directly by the state prosecutor, walked into the room carrying an official lab report. "Traces of the exact same compound were found in the autopsy tissue samples of Rebecca Calloway from three years ago."
The room went dead silent.
Vivian stumbled backward, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Her eyes darted wildly around the room, looking for allies, but every single board member—including Marcus Vance—was pressing themselves as far away from her as possible.
"You killed my first wife to secure your place in this house, Vivian," Grant said, walking slowly toward her, his shadow swallowing her whole. "And then you tried to starve, terrorize, and finally poison my children and me to steal everything I built."
"I was doing what was necessary!" Vivian screamed, her sanity completely snapping as she lunged forward with her manicured fingernails aimed at Grant’s face.
She didn't even make it a foot.
The two private security guards moved with terrifying speed, pinning Vivian’s arms behind her back with a sharp, brutal click of steel handcuffs.
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"Vivian Calloway," the lead guard announced coldly, "you are under arrest for the premeditated murder of Rebecca Calloway and attempted murder of Grant and his dependents."
As they dragged her kicking and screaming out of the boardroom, her desperate cries echoing down the marble hallway, I stood quietly by the door, watching the monster of the Calloway estate finally get carried away into the dark.
