Chapter 8 - The Interrogation
The federal detention center was a stark contrast to Beatrice's luxury mansion.
She sat in a cold, concrete interrogation room, wearing an orange jumpsuit.
Her perfectly styled hair was a mess, and her arrogant demeanor was entirely gone.
I stood behind the two-way mirror, watching her tremble in the harsh fluorescent light.
The lead prosecutor, a ruthless man named Davis, walked into the room and tossed a massive file onto the metal table.
"Good morning, Mrs. Kensington," Davis said smoothly.
"I want my lawyer," Beatrice demanded, glaring at him.
"Your lawyer resigned this morning," Davis informed her, opening the file.
"It seems he didn't want to be implicated in the massive fraud ring we just uncovered on your private server."
Beatrice swallowed hard, her eyes darting nervously around the room.
"Furthermore," Davis continued, "your son Arthur has agreed to testify against you."
"In exchange for immunity regarding his campaign fraud, he is giving us everything."
Beatrice let out a sharp gasp, covering her mouth with her trembling hands.
"Arthur wouldn't do that," she sobbed.
"He already did," Davis replied, sliding a signed confession across the table.
Beatrice stared at her son's signature, the reality of her betrayal finally sinking in.
Her own flesh and blood had sold her out to save himself.
I pressed the button on the intercom, allowing my voice to pipe into the room.
"How does it feel, Beatrice?" I asked.
She looked up at the mirror, knowing exactly who was standing behind it.
"How does it feel to know that your own family is as broken and disloyal as you are?" I continued.
"You destroyed my family!" she screamed at the mirror.
"No," I replied calmly.
"I simply held up a mirror."
"You destroyed yourselves."
Davis pulled out a plea agreement and slapped a pen on top of it.
"You are facing twenty years in federal prison, Beatrice."
"Sign the confession, and I'll see if the judge will lower it to fifteen."
She looked at the pen, tears streaming down her wrinkled face.
She slowly reached out and picked it up.
With a shaking hand, she signed her life away.
May you like
I turned away from the glass and walked out of the observation room.
The mission was almost complete.
