Chapter 7 - The Interrogation RoomThree days later, I was discharged from the hospital and brought directly to the county police precinct. The smell of smoke and ruined timber was still fresh on Ryan’s clothes when the detectives brought him in for questioning, though he wasn't wearing his suit anymore. He was wearing standard-issue holding-cell blues.

Vanessa sat in an interrogation room down the hall, sobbing hysterically as forensic investigators pulled the melted shards of her gasoline canister from the ash heap of our front porch.

I sat across a heavy metal table from Detective Miller, a seasoned investigator with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor.

"Mrs. Sterling," Detective Miller said, sliding a thick manila folder across the table. "Your attorney provided us with the cloud-synced high-definition footage from your porch camera. Along with the audio recordings of Mr. Sterling coaching the suspect on the driveway."

I opened the folder. Inside were still frames extracted from the video: Vanessa’s hand violently shoving my shoulder, the exact moment I lost my footing, and Ryan leaning over his mistress while I lay bleeding on the stone.

"Is this an accurate representation of events?" Miller asked quietly.

"Every second of it," I replied, my voice steady, my hand resting protectively over my still-healing stomach.

"Mr. Sterling is claiming it was a tragic accident and that the subsequent fire was an unrelated act of vandalism by an unknown party," Miller continued, a faint smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "He seems to think his corporate lawyers can spin this into a simple marital dispute."

I slid a second document across the table—a printed transcript of financial records Maya and I had pulled from our joint accounts late last night.

May you like

The silence in the home theater was absolute, broken only by the hum of...

The heavy mahogany doors of the dining hall clicked shut behind Clara, s...

Chapter 3 - The Secret in the SafeDown in the study, Dr. Mercer had already cut away the athletic tape and removed the two wooden...

The rhythmic pounding from behind the metal door reverberated through th...

"He transferred eighty thousand dollars of corporate embezzled funds into Vanessa’s personal offshore account last month," I said calmly. "And the fire marshal already recovered the receipt for the gasoline can from the floorboard of Vanessa’s car, purchased thirty minutes before she arrived at the house."

Detective Miller looked down at the financial records, raised his eyebrows, and let out a low whistle. "Well, Mrs. Sterling. It looks like your husband didn't just underestimate you. He signed his own death warrant."