Chapter 2 - The Interrogation RoomThe cold stainless-steel table in Interview Room 3 mirrored the frost gathering in Ethan’s mind. Across from him sat Detective Miller and a forensic accountant from the state attorney’s office, their folders stacked thick with paper trails.
"Let's go over this one more time, Mr. Miller," Detective Miller said, tapping a pen against a multi-page transaction summary. "You claim that all properties, corporate shares, and trust funds belonging to your wife's late father were legally transferred to your sole ownership six months ago. Is that correct?"
Ethan swallowed hard, forcing confidence back into his voice. "Yes. It's all right there in the binding corporate resolution. She signed it voluntarily. We have notarized copies."
The forensic accountant slid a document across the table. "You mean these notarized copies? The ones bearing the stamp of a notary public who retired to Florida three years before this document was allegedly signed?"
Ethan blinked, leaning forward to squint at the paper. "That... that's impossible. A reputable firm handled—"
"A firm that you personally hired using embezzled funds from your wife's family investment company," the accountant interrupted. "Mr. Miller, your wife didn't just notice missing pages in the originals. As a specialized financial fraud prosecutor before you systematically isolated her, she kept a meticulous digital shadow-audit of every single document passing through her father's estate."
A chill ran down Ethan’s spine. For three years, he had treated me like a broken doll, a fragile domestic decoration to parade at charity galas while he systematically stripped away her autonomy. He had convinced himself she was weak. He had convinced himself she was blind to his affairs, his offshore accounts, and his quiet campaign to bankrupt her family.
"She gave it to me," Ethan insisted, his voice rising in panic, scraping against the walls of the tiny room. "She signed over power of attorney! She signed the deed transfers!"
"She signed an experimental draft copy designed to test your compliance," a cool, synthesized voice echoed from the intercom speaker above them.
Ethan spun around in his chair, staring up at the speaker grill.
May you like
My voice—calm, steady, and entirely devoid of the fear he had grown accustomed to manipulating—filled the interrogation room.
"You always were too impatient, Ethan," the speaker continued. "You couldn't wait to see your name on the door, so you didn't check the serial numbers on the bottom of the pages. You signed your own confession the day you thought you won."
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