Chapter 6 - The Federal InterrogationThe federal holding facility on Dearborn Street smelled of ozone, industrial bleach, and suppressed panic.
In an interrogation room cold enough to frost breath, Nora sat at a steel table. Across from her sat Special Agent Sarah Vance—Senator Vance's niece and the lead prosecutor heading the federal task force against Moreno Hospitality.
The door clicked open, and Cade walked in, flanked by two attorneys from the city's most expensive defense firm. His hands were uncuffed—the federal agents didn't dare cuff him without a signed magistrate order, and even then, his lawyers were breathing down their necks.
"Mr. Moreno, Mrs. Moreno," Agent Vance said, leaning forward, her eyes gleaming with triumph. She slid a thick manila folder across the table. "Let’s dispense with the theatrics. We have bank records showing three million dollars transferred from an offshore shell company into a trust bearing Maya Callahan's name, executed twenty-four hours after your marriage certificate was filed."
Nora’s breath caught. She looked up at Cade. His face was an absolute mask of stone.
"That trust was established legally as part of our prenuptial agreement," Cade said, his voice level. "Filed with the state, fully disclosed to the tax commission."
"It was funded by money embezzled from the union pension funds tied to your waterfront properties," Vance countered, slamming her hand on the table. She pointed a finger directly at Nora. "And you, Mrs. Moreno—you were installed as managing beneficiary precisely to provide a clean civilian wall between your husband and his criminal enterprise. You're an accessory to financial fraud."
Nora stared at the folder. She thought of her studio apartment. She thought of Maya sleeping safely in her bed at the Burling Street mansion. She thought of the rain-drowned night at Rosie's Diner when she had whispered her desperate prayer to an empty room.
She looked at Cade. He wasn't looking at the prosecutor; he was looking at her, his dark eyes searching her face, waiting to see if she would break.
Nora slowly leaned back in her chair. She crossed her hands on the steel table, her posture straight, her chin held high.
"Agent Vance," Nora said, her voice eerily calm, cutting through the tension in the room like a razor blade. "Do you know what my rent was last month?"
Vance blinked, thrown off rhythm. "What does that have to do with—"
"My rent was five days late," Nora continued, her voice rising slightly, steady and clear. "I had forty dollars in my checking account. My sister was suffering from severe asthma attacks that my insurance wouldn't cover. A man I thought I loved abandoned us by text message while we were drowning."
She leaned forward, locking her eyes onto the federal prosecutor's face.
"So when Cade Moreno sat in that diner and offered me a legal marriage to secure my sister's future, I didn't ask about his offshore accounts. I didn't ask about his union funds. I asked if he would protect my family. He said yes. And unlike everyone else in this city, my husband keeps his word."
"That doesn't absolve you of—"
"It absolves me of ignorance," Nora interrupted sharply. "Every document in that folder was drafted by my independent legal counsel, vetted by the state of Illinois, and executed in broad daylight. If your uncle, Senator Vance, spent half as much time investigating the actual corruption in the state senate as he does trying to tear apart a legal marriage out of petty political spite, maybe this city would actually be clean."
The room went dead silent. One of Cade’s defense attorneys coughed loudly to hide a grin.
Agent Vance’s face turned the color of curdled milk. She opened her mouth to speak, but before a word could come out, the heavy steel door swung open wide.
A senior federal marshal rushed in, breathless, holding a red-tagged tablet.
"Agent Vance," the marshal blurted out, ignoring the lawyers. "You need to look at this right now. The wire transfers you flagged... they weren't linked to Moreno Hospitality."
Vance frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"They originated from a private blind trust registered to Senator Arthur Vance's re-election campaign," the marshal said, his voice dropping. "He used Moreno's corporate routing numbers to frame him. The financial crimes division just signed off on an immediate warrant for the Senator's arrest."
Agent Vance slowly turned her head, staring at the tablet in horror.
May you like
Cade didn't smile. He didn't gloat. He simply reached across the steel table, took Nora’s hand in his scarred grip, and stood up.
"Our ninety days aren't up yet, Agent," Cade said smoothly, pulling Nora up beside him. "And my wife has a very important spelling test to help her sister study for on Monday morning. If you need us, our lawyers will be handling your office's paperwork."
