Chapter 4 - The Interrogation
Chloe sat in the steel chair of the holding cell, shivering violently. She was still wearing my cashmere coat, though it was now stained with dirty slush from the highway. Her mascara ran down her cheeks in dark, jagged lines.
Through the one-way mirror in the observation room, Grandfather and I watched her. I held Leo against my chest, feeling entirely detached from the weeping woman on the other side of the glass.
Detective Harrison walked into the interrogation room, dropping a thick file onto the metal table.
“Chloe Sterling,” Harrison said, pulling up a chair. “Let’s talk about the Porsche.”
“It’s mine!” Chloe sobbed, slamming her manicured hands on the table. “My sister is crazy! She gave it to me! She’s just jealous because her boyfriend left her and I have everything!”
“Interesting,” Harrison said, sliding a piece of paper across the table. “Because the handwriting analyst we brought in this morning confirmed that the signature on the title transfer matches your mother’s handwriting, not Elena’s. That’s a felony, Chloe. Forgery and grand theft.”
Chloe stared at the paper, her bravado shattering instantly. “My... my mother?”
“Yes,” Harrison leaned in. “And we also know about the offshore accounts. The ones your parents used to funnel six million dollars of Elena’s money. Did you know some of those accounts have your name on them, Chloe?”
“No!” Chloe shrieked, panic fully setting in. “I didn’t do anything! They told me Elena was broke! They told me Grandpa cut her off!”
“Who told you that?”
“My dad! My mom!” Chloe pointed frantically toward the door. “They buy everything! They gave me the car! I just drive it! If they stole the money, it was them! Not me!”
In the observation room, Grandfather chuckled darkly. “There is no loyalty among thieves. She folded in less than three minutes.”
I stared through the glass. I had spent my entire life thinking I was the weak one in the family. Chloe was the golden child, the ruthless, successful one. But stripped of my money, she was nothing but a terrified coward.
“Will she go to prison?” I asked quietly.
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“She will,” Grandfather said. “Unless she testifies against her parents in open court. Which, as we can see, she is eager to do.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come, Elena. Let’s go home. The police have plenty of work to do today.”
