Chapter 4 - The Interrogation Room
Down in the windowless administrative holding annex of Riverside Regional Medical Center, the atmosphere was thick with fluorescent glare and simmering panic. Ethan sat at a utilitarian steel table, his expensive grey suit now hopelessly wrinkled, his tie loosened to reveal a throat damp with nervous sweat. Across from him sat Detective Marcus Vance of the municipal police department—no relation, thankfully—and Special Agent Miller, whose leather briefcase rested closed on the table like an unexploded ordnance.
The heavy metal door clicked open, and Liam stepped into the room, wearing his full Class A U.S. Army dress uniform with the ribbons of a combat veteran gleaming across his chest. He didn't sit down. He simply stood beside Agent Miller, his arms crossed behind his back, his presence instantly dominating the cramped space.
Ethan looked up, his eyes bloodshot and wide with a mixture of furious disbelief and rising terror as he took in Liam’s uniform and the federal insignia on Agent Miller’s lapel.
“This is an outrage,” Ethan spat, slamming his palms flat against the steel table. “I demand to speak with my corporate counsel immediately! You are holding me here under false pretenses based on the hysterical lies of a delusional wife!”
Agent Miller didn't flinch. She simply slid a single sheet of paper across the metal surface, stopping it right beneath Ethan’s trembling fingertips.
“Mr. Vance, you aren't being held solely on domestic assault charges anymore,” Agent Miller said, her tone as cold and level as winter ice. “This is a federal warrant for wire fraud, forgery of government contracts, interstate transportation of stolen funds, and the systematic embezzlement of four point two million dollars from federal infrastructure subsidies.”
Ethan stared down at the document, his face draining of every drop of color until his skin took on the grey, waxy tone of a corpse. His eyes darted across the line items—specific LLC names, account numbers at offshore banking institutions in Zurich, and digital signature logs bearing his own private cryptographic key.
“This... this is fabricated,” Ethan stammered, his voice cracking on the final syllable as the polished corporate confidence completely evaporated. “Anyone could draft fake bank statements. It doesn't prove anything without my personal decryption key.”
Liam stepped forward, resting his knuckles on the edge of the table and leaning down until his face was inches from Ethan’s wide, terrified eyes.
“You spent three years assuming your wife was just a quiet ornament to parade around at charity banquets,” Liam said softly, each word tasting like slow-acting poison. “You never bothered to check who trained her, who funded her education, or what kind of security protocols protect the digital archives of military financial investigators.”
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Ethan swallowed hard, his throat working convulsively. “She... she’s just a data analyst. She doesn't have the authority—”
“She retained ninety-one percent voting control of Apex Development through the primary trust our father established before you ever incorporated the business,” Liam interrupted, his voice dropping an octave lower. “You didn't build an empire, Ethan. You built a glass cage, walked inside, and handed the master key to the person you were trying to lock away.”
