Chapter 6 - The Mastermind Unveiled

Panic erupted in the boardroom as security officers stepped forward to escort the disgraced directors out of the building.

Within two hours, the corporate headquarters was swept clean. Rebranded digital signs outside the skyscraper flickered from Stonebridge Capital back to its original legacy name: WHITMORE CAPITAL FINANCIAL.

By noon, I was sitting in the visitor interview room at the Metropolitan Correction Center in Lower Manhattan.

On the other side of the thick bulletproof glass sat Adrian.

He looked unrecognizable. His tailored suit had been replaced by a baggy orange prison jumpsuit. His unwashed hair was disheveled, his face bruised from his fight with Vanessa, and dark circles hollowed his eyes.

When he saw me sit down on the other side of the glass, he slammed his cuffed hands against the counter.

“You evil, calculating viper!” Adrian spat into the small intercom speaker. “You planned this! You planned the whole thing from the day we got married!”

I picked up the black telephone receiver attached to the glass wall and held it to my ear.

“I didn’t plan it, Adrian,” I said calmly through the speaker. “You did. Every action you took was your choice. You chose to embezzle forty million dollars from my mother’s foundation. You chose to bring Vanessa into our home. You chose to lift that whip.”

Adrian’s jaw trembled. “Where is she? Where is Vanessa? She was supposed to post my bail!”

I chuckled softly—a low, melodic sound that made Adrian flinch.

“Vanessa was arrested at JFK International Airport at three o’clock this morning,” I informed him. “She was carrying two suitcases filled with uncertified bearer bonds and four stolen luxury watches. She’s currently in federal custody facing charges of accessory to corporate grand theft, money laundering, and tax evasion.”

Adrian slid down in his plastic chair, his face ash-gray. “What... what do you want from me, Clara? You took my money! You took my company! You ruined my reputation! You have everything!”

“I don’t have everything yet, Adrian,” I said smoothly, leaning closer to the glass.

“What do you mean?” he whimpered.

“I came here to tell you about the final piece of my father’s bequest,” I whispered, my voice dropping low. “You see, Adrian... you spent three years believing my father died of a sudden stroke.”

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Adrian blinked, confused. “He... he did! The medical examiner confirmed it!”

“No,” I smiled, my eyes gleaming with a terrifying truth. “He didn't.”