Chapter 5 - The Interrogation RoomThe holding cells beneath the federal courthouse in downtown were cold, damp, and smelled of cheap disinfectant and absolute despair.
Daniel Carter sat at a scarred metal interrogation table, his expensive designer tie loosened, his hair disheveled, and his shirt wrinkled. The confident, arrogant swagger that had defined him for years had completely evaporated, replaced by a hollow, trembling panic.
The heavy steel door swung open with a loud clank.
Two federal postal inspectors walked in, followed closely by a woman in a sharp, tailored charcoal pantsuit carrying a leather folio.
Daniel scrambled up from his chair, slamming his hands onto the table. "This is an outrage! Do you know who I am?! I am the senior administrator of St. Matthew’s Hospital! I demand a phone call! This is a corporate mix-up—"
"Sit down, Mr. Carter," the lead inspector said calmly, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite him.
"No! I won't sit down! Where is my wife? Where is Emily?!" Daniel snarled, his voice cracking with rising hysteria. "She’s behind this! She’s vindictive! She’s exaggerating a simple inventory adjustment! Tell her to drop the charges right now or I'll—"
"You'll what, Mr. Carter?" a cool, melodic, yet absolutely freezing voice interrupted from the doorway.
Daniel stopped dead in his tracks.
I stepped out from the shadows of the hallway into the harsh fluorescent light of the interrogation room. I wore a tailored black coat, my hair pulled back into a sleek bun, my expression completely devoid of any warmth or mercy.
Daniel’s jaw dropped. He stared at me as if I were a ghost.
"E-Emily?" he stammered, blinking rapidly. "What... what are you doing here? Get me out of here! Tell these cops it's a domestic dispute! Tell them we can handle this at home!"
I walked slowly toward the table, pulling off my leather gloves one finger at a time. I didn't say a word until I was standing directly across from him, looking down into his terrified, bloodshot eyes.
"Home, Daniel?" I asked quietly. "Which home? The one you were planning to share with Vanessa after you let our daughter die in the ICU?"
"I didn't let her die!" Daniel shrieked, his facade completely cracking. "She was fine! The doctors were monitoring her! I just needed those doses for Vanessa temporarily! It was a loan, Emily! A loan!"
"A loan," I repeated, letting out a short, biting laugh. "You diverted restricted, life-saving pediatric biologics to your twenty-three-year-old mistress because you thought she was 'worth more' than our eight-year-old child."
I pulled a single piece of thick, heavy linen paper from my coat pocket and dropped it neatly onto the center of the metal table.
Daniel’s eyes dropped to the paper. His breath caught in his throat.
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It was his official Notice of Termination and Permanent Industry Blacklisting, signed by the Board of Directors of Sterling Healthcare Group.
And at the bottom, under the line marked Chief Executive Shareholder Approval, was my signature: Emily Sterling-Carter.
