Chapter 6 - THE CONFESSIONThe overhead surgical lights slammed on with a blinding flash.

Richard dropped the empty syringe, shielding his eyes. As his vision adjusted, he froze in utter horror.

I wasn't in the bed. I was standing near the bathroom doorway, leaning heavily on a chrome walker, dressed in my hospital gown, my eyes blazing with ice. Beside me stood two federal agents, their sidearms drawn and aimed directly at Richard’s chest.

And mounted on every corner of the ceiling were high-definition cameras, their red recording lights blinking steadily.

“Drop to your knees! Hands on your head! NOW!” one of the federal agents shouted.

Richard’s face drained of all color. “What... what is this?! This is a setup!”

“Attempted murder, corporate espionage, and federal bank fraud,” Eleanor said, stepping into the room from a side door, holding a recording device. “Everything you just did, every word you spoke in that motel room, and every drop of that poison you just injected into that fake line was broadcast live to the FBI and the Board of Directors.”

Richard collapsed to his knees, his hands trembling as he raised them above his head. “Maya… please… I was out of my mind! Celeste made me do it! She pushed me! She threatened to leave me!”

“Save it for the grand jury, Richard,” I said, stepping closer to him, my voice dripping with pure disgust. “You didn't just try to kill me. You stood by while your daughter poured scalding coffee over our newborn children. You looked at my blood and called it an inconvenience.”

“I’m sorry! I’ll give you everything! The company, the accounts—”

“I already have everything,” I cut him off, my voice sharp as a razor. “Your board voted an hour ago to terminate you as CEO. The bank has seized your Cayman accounts for fraud investigation. You have zero dollars, zero assets, and zero freedom.”

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Arthur Sterling tapped his leather-wrapped fingers against the steering...

The sound hung in the air, rhythmic and deliberate—tap, tap, tap—reverbe...

The wind on the balcony was sharp, carrying the bitter, fish-heavy tang...

The federal agents slammed Richard down onto the hard floor, pulling his arms behind his back and snapping heavy steel cuffs over his wrists.

As they hauled him to his feet, he looked at me, weeping hysterically, begging for mercy. But I didn't feel a shred of pity. I turned my back on him as they dragged him down the long, empty hallway, his screams fading into the storm outside.