Chapter 6 - The Interrogation RoomThe federal holding facility downtown smelled of industrial disinfectant, cold concrete, and absolute despair.
I walked down the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway escorted by two federal marshals, my heels clicking rhythmically against the floor. My father chose to wait outside in the secure observation suite, leaving this final chapter entirely in my hands.
When I reached interrogation room B, I paused outside the two-way mirror. Inside, sitting under the harsh, buzzing glare of a single overhead bulb, was Nathan Ashford.
The man who had walked into Blackthorn Manor with the arrogance of a king now looked like a ghost of his former self. His expensive designer suit was wrinkled and stained. His hair was disheveled, and his hands, freed from the zip-ties but cuffed to a bolted steel table, trembled as he stared blankly at the scarred metal surface in front of him.
Beside him, in interrogation room C, Celeste was reportedly screaming hysterically at her public defender, demanding bail that no judge in the country would ever grant. But I didn't care about Celeste anymore. She was just a symptom of a much deeper disease.
I adjusted the lapels of my coat, took a steady breath, and pushed the heavy steel door open.
The door made a sharp, echoing clank as it swung shut behind me.
Nathan didn't look up immediately. He assumed it was just another federal investigator or a court-appointed attorney coming to deliver more bad news.
"I want to speak to my lawyer," Nathan rasped, his voice cracked and hollow. "I want a phone call. Under international corporate law—"
"There is no corporate law left for you to hide behind, Nathan," I said softly.
Nathan froze.
Slowly, his head snapped up. His bloodshot eyes widened in shock as he stared at me standing across the interrogation table. For a second, his brain seemed to stall, struggling to reconcile the bruised, broken wife he had whipped on the floor of Blackthorn Manor with the commanding, impeccably dressed woman standing before him now.
"Aria..." Nathan whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He half-stumbled out of his chair, instinctively leaning forward as if he still expected me to rush to his side, offer comfort, or cower beneath his gaze. "Aria, thank God. Listen to me. The feds, they’re crazy, they’re—they’re railroading me! You have to tell them it's a mistake. We're husband and wife! You can save me!"
I didn't move. I didn't flinch. I just stood there, looking down at him with an absolute, chilling calm.
"Husband and wife," I repeated, letting the words hang in the heavy air between us. "Funny, Nathan. For four years, you treated me like a piece of broken furniture in your home. You lied, you cheated, you manipulated, and last night... you thought you were going to erase me entirely."
Nathan swallowed hard, his face turning pale as sweat beaded on his forehead. "I... I was under stress! Celeste got into my head, she manipulated me, she—"
"Stop," I said, holding up a single hand. The word was like a physical blow; Nathan instantly snapped his mouth shut.
"Don't blame Celeste for your own cowardice," I continued, walking slowly around the table until I was standing right beside his chair. "Celeste was just a parasite feeding off what you already were. You didn't become cruel because of her, Nathan. You became cruel because success stripped away the polite mask you wore when you were just a struggling nobody trying to get my attention."
Nathan stared up at me, his lower lip trembling. The CEO of Ashford Global Logistics—the man who believed the world had surrendered to him—was reduced to a weeping, broken shell, begging for mercy from the very woman he had tried to destroy.
"Please, Aria," Nathan sobbed, tears finally spilling over his eyelids and tracking down his hollow cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll give you a divorce. I'll sign over everything. Just... please don't let your family destroy the rest of my life. I'll go to prison for twenty years!"
"Twenty years?" I leaned down, speaking softly right into his ear, my voice like ice. "Nathan, my father’s legal team and the federal prosecutors are currently filing sixty-eight distinct criminal indictments against you. Between securities fraud, racketeering, embezzlement, and conspiracy, you aren't looking at twenty years."
I pulled back and looked directly into his terrified eyes.
"You're never seeing the outside of a maximum-security prison again."
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Nathan let out a low, broken wail of absolute despair, slumping forward until his forehead hit the cold metal table. He had finally realized the full, terrifying extent of his own ruin.
I turned around, walked toward the heavy steel door, and didn't look back once.
