Chapter 6 - The Interrogation Room
The holding cell at the federal detention center was cold, sterile, and bathed in harsh fluorescent light.
When I walked into the adjacent observation room, Richard was sitting at the stainless-steel table, his Tom Ford suit rumpled, his hair disheveled. The charismatic, untouchable billionaire was gone, replaced by a cornered, desperate animal.
Through the one-way mirror, I watched him stare blankly at his handcuffed hands.
The heavy metal door of the interview room opened, and Detective Miller walked in, dropping a thick manila folder onto the metal table with a loud slap.
Richard didn't look up immediately. "I want my counsel. I want Victor Sterling here within the hour. You have no jurisdiction—"
"Victor Sterling was arrested twenty minutes ago for laundering thirty million dollars in embezzled Hayes Global funds through the Cayman Islands," Miller cut him off bluntly.
Richard’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "That's a lie. That's a complete fabrication—"
"It's backed by blockchain transaction hashes with your digital signature attached, Mr. Hayes," a calm, synthesized voice echoed through the speaker system of the observation room.
I pressed the intercom button, my voice filling the interrogation room.
Richard froze. He bolted upright in his chair, staring blindly at the dark one-way mirror, knowing full well who was watching him.
"Amelia..." he breathed, his voice cracking with a mixture of disbelief and sudden, crawling terror. "Amelia, baby, please. Listen to me. It was a mistake. A momentary lapse in judgment. I was pressured... the board, the debt—"
"You tried to murder me and our child over a bank account, Richard," I said, my tone clinical, devoid of any warmth or anger. "You didn't just break my trust; you signed your own financial and social death warrant."
"You can't do this!" he suddenly screamed, slamming his cuffed hands against the table and lunging toward the glass. "I know your weaknesses! I know everything about you! If I go down, I'm taking your entire empire with me—"
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"You don't own an empire anymore, Richard," I replied softly. "You don't even own the suit you're wearing. Everything you ever touched, everything you ever schemed for, now belongs to the estate you tried to steal from."
I flicked the intercom switch off, turning away from the glass. Let him scream at the mirror. He was already a ghost.
