Chapter 8 - The Interrogation Room
The federal holding cell smelled like bleach and despair.
Adrian sat on the metal bench, wearing an orange jumpsuit, his head buried in his hands.
He had been denied bail.
The prosecutor argued he was a flight risk, citing the millions of dollars missing from the corporate accounts.
The heavy steel door groaned open.
Adrian looked up, expecting to see his sweaty, incompetent lawyer.
Instead, Claire walked in.
She looked pristine, untouchable, and utterly unaffected by the dreary surroundings.
"Hello, Adrian," she said quietly, taking a seat across from him.
Adrian lunged forward, but the heavy chain around his waist yanked him back.
"You bitch!" he screamed, spit flying from his lips. "You set me up!"
Claire did not even blink.
"I didn't forge your signature on those fraudulent tax returns, Adrian."
She smoothed a crease in her trousers.
"I simply made sure the right people finally saw them."
Adrian began to weep, his arrogance completely broken.
"Claire, please," he begged, falling to his knees as far as the chains would allow.
"I'm sorry about Savannah. I'm sorry about everything."
"Think of Noah! You can't let our son’s father rot in prison!"
Claire looked down at him, her eyes completely devoid of sympathy.
"Noah will be just fine," she said softly.
"He asked about you once on the flight, and I told him you were busy."
She leaned in closer.
"He hasn't asked about you since."
Adrian let out a gut-wrenching sob.
"I spent years living in your shadow," Claire whispered, her voice like ice.
"I smiled while you belittled me. I stayed quiet while you stole from my mother's legacy."
She stood up, straightening her jacket.
May you like
"Enjoy the cell, Adrian. It’s the only property you actually own now."
She turned and walked out, leaving him screaming in the dark.
