Chapter 3 - The Unraveling AlibiThe interrogation room at the Central Police Precinct was ice-cold. Ethan sat across from Detective Vance, his expensive lawyer, Arthur Pendelton, sitting right beside him with an air of smug confidence.

"My client refutes all accusations made by his wife," Pendelton declared, slamming a folder onto the metal table. "Mrs. Claire Blackwood is currently under heavy narcotic medication and suffers from documented psychological instability. Her statement is completely unreliable."

Detective Vance played the audio recording from the hospital room. Claire's faint, terrified voice echoed through the metal room: "...before Ethan let me fall!"

"Explain that, Mr. Blackwood," Vance said, leaning over the table. "Multiple guests saw you catch her at the last second, yet your wife claims you intentionally dropped her."

Ethan laughed coldly, leaning back in his chair. "Detective, look at the architecture of Blackwood Manor. The balcony rail is four feet high. Claire weighs barely 110 pounds. If I had wanted to push her, she would have fallen thirty feet onto the stone driveway and died instantly. Instead, she fell onto the lower garden trellis."

"Because Eleanor grabbed her coat first," Vance countered. "We found Eleanor’s torn fingernails and DNA on the wool lapel of Claire’s coat. Eleanor was pulling her up. You were holding her wrists. The bruises on Claire’s wrists match your handprint dimensions exactly."

Ethan’s smile faded. "I was trying to pull her back over the railing!"

"Then why did the maid, Martha, just give us a sworn affidavit?" Vance asked, pulling a fresh sheet of paper from his file.

Ethan’s lawyer frowned. "What affidavit?"

"Martha states that twenty minutes before the fall, she overheard you and Eleanor in the library," Vance read aloud. "You weren't fighting Eleanor. You were arguing over a contract. In fact, Martha heard you say: 'If we don't finish this tonight, the audit tomorrow will ruin us both.'"

Ethan’s composure cracked for the first time. Sweat beaded along his forehead.

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Arthur Sterling tapped his leather-wrapped fingers against the steering...

The sound hung in the air, rhythmic and deliberate—tap, tap, tap—reverbe...

The wind on the balcony was sharp, carrying the bitter, fish-heavy tang...

"You and Eleanor aren't enemies, are you, Ethan?" Vance pressed, slamming his hands on the table. "You two orchestrated this entire feud to cover up the fact that you burned through $20 million of the Blackwood Trust!"

CHAPTER 3 HOOK: Before Ethan could answer, the door swung open. A junior officer leaned in. "Detective, you need to see this. We just searched Eleanor Blackwood’s private safe at the manor. We found a signed life insurance policy on Claire... taken out three weeks ago, naming Ethan as the sole beneficiary."