Chapter 6 - The Warehouse Interrogation

Margaret was swiftly detained and brought directly to an empty, echoing warehouse I owned down by the shipping docks.
I did not call the police right away, because the legal system was far too slow for the answers I required tonight.
She was forcefully strapped to a cold metal chair under a single, blinding halogen light.
"Who exactly paid you to murder my son?" I asked, tossing a thick, newly printed folder of her hidden offshore bank records onto the table in front of her.
She remained stubbornly silent, glaring at me with those cold, dead, reptilian eyes that had once fooled me completely.
"You attempted to brutally murder an eight-month-old infant," I stated, leaning in so close she could feel the rage radiating off my skin.
"If you do not give me a name in the next sixty seconds, I will personally ensure you spend the rest of your miserable life in a dark hole where no one will ever find you."
Margaret let out a bitter, mocking laugh that echoed terribly against the concrete walls.
"You honestly think you are so incredibly smart, Marcus."
"You built an untouchable global empire, but you are too stupid to even see what is happening inside your own family."
"Give me the damn name!" I roared, violently slamming both of my fists onto the metal table, denting the surface.
"It was Richard," she spat out, a malicious, twisted grin forming on her thin lips.
My blood instantly ran completely cold, freezing my heart in my chest.
Richard was my late wife's only brother; he was my own supposedly grieving brother-in-law.
"Why in the world would Richard want his own nephew dead?" I demanded, feeling the entire world tilt dangerously on its axis.
"It is all because of the legacy trust fund," Margaret eagerly explained, relishing my visible agony.
"If Zion dies before his first birthday, the entire estate and all liquid assets revert directly to Richard's side of the family according to the old legal will."
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Richard, the cowardly man who had openly sobbed on my shoulder at his sister's tragic funeral, desperately wanted my baby dead for money.
The betrayal cut deeper than any physical knife ever could.