Chapter 6 - THE FINAL INTERROGATIONThe damp, concrete walls of the underground vault smelled of aged wine, dust, and raw adrenaline.
The heavy steel door swung open with a loud, metallic shriek, flooding the dim room with blinding fluorescent light from the hallway. David Moretti squinted fiercely, lifting a bruised, handcuffed wrist to shield his eyes. His custom designer suit was wrinkled, stained with dust, and his hair was matted against his forehead. He looked less like a powerful mafia boss and more like a cornered stray animal.
"Bring him out," I commanded softly.
Two large guards grabbed David by the shoulders and hauled him roughly to his feet, shoving him forward until he stumbled and hit his knees against the cold concrete floor right in front of me.
I stood there in a crisp, tailored ivory pantsuit, my heels clicking sharply against the floor as I walked slowly around him, looking down at the man who had terrorized my peace of mind for five long years.
"Claire..." David choked out, his voice cracked and raw from hours of screaming in the dark. He raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, filled with a mix of fury, disbelief, and pathetic desperation. "Please... you can't do this. We're husband and wife. Look at me. Don't let them—"
"Husband and wife?" I interrupted, my voice devoid of any warmth or hesitation. I reached down, pulling a crisp, legal document from my portfolio, and dropped it right onto the dusty concrete inches from his face. "Read page four, David."
With shaking, handcuffed hands, David fumbled with the papers, his eyes scanning the bold legal headings. As comprehension hit him, the color drained entirely from his face.
"A—annulment?" he stammered, his voice trembling violently. "No. No, this isn't just an annulment. You... you liquidated my entire estate! My offshore accounts are empty! The board... the board voted me out!"
"They didn't just vote you out, David. They helped me pack your bags," I replied smoothly, crouching down so I was eye-level with him. I reached out and gently patted his cheek, mimicking the patronizing gesture he used to give me whenever I tried to question his late nights. "Don't be so insecure, darling. Maybe you need to ask yourself why you’re so afraid of losing everything."
David flinched as if I had struck him across the face with a lead pipe. A guttural sound of rage and humiliation caught in his throat.
"You... you bitch!" he snarled, lunging forward with a sudden burst of violent energy, but the guards instantly slammed him back down into the dirt, pressing a heavy boot against the back of his neck. "When I get out of here—when the feds realize—"
"The feds won't be looking at you as a cartel boss, David," I whispered softly into his ear, cutting him off completely. "They'll be looking at you as the sole scapegoat who embezzled from the syndicate while betraying your family. Your father signed off on the audit this morning. You're going away for twenty years, minimum."
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Elena’s shrill, panicked screaming echoed down the corridor from the adjacent holding cell, reminding him he wasn't the only one paying the price for their little romance.
David stared at me, his chest heaving, realization finally settling into his hollow bones. The game was over. The master manipulator had been thoroughly, brilliantly outplayed.
