Chapter 4 - The Walls Close In
By noon, the Delaney estate in Greenwich looked like a war zone.
Helicopters from five different news networks circled above the manicured lawns. A small army of reporters and camera crews were pressed against the wrought-iron gates, screaming questions into microphones.
Inside the mansion, the atmosphere was suffocating. All the curtains were drawn. The silence of the massive house was broken only by the sound of Claire Delaney pacing the marble floors, a glass of gin trembling in her hand.
"It's a deep fake! It's AI! That's what we'll say!" Claire babbled hysterically, her designer silk blouse wrinkled and stained with spilled alcohol. "We just need to pay the right tech experts! We can fix this, Richard! Tell me you can fix this!"
Richard sat in a high-backed leather chair, staring blankly at the unlit fireplace. "I don't have the money to pay an expert, Claire. I don't have the money to pay the electric bill. Alan Warren froze every liquid asset we possess. We are locked out of the company. The board of directors held an emergency vote an hour ago. We've been ousted."
Matthew sat on the sofa, his head buried in his hands. He was waiting for his phone to ring with some kind of miracle, but the only calls he was getting were from former friends and business partners formally cutting ties.
"How could you be so stupid?!" Claire suddenly shrieked, turning her wrath on her son. "You told me she was a nobody! You told me her parents were poor trash! You married a billionaire's daughter and didn't even run a proper background check?!"
"Me?!" Matthew jumped up, his face twisted in rage. "You're the one who sprayed industrial acid in her face! I was just trying to keep her from getting it on the Persian rug!"
The utter depravity of his own statement hung in the air.
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany front doors of the estate groaned in protest.
A loud, authoritative knock shattered the screaming match.
"Greenwich Police Department! Open the door!"
Claire dropped her gin glass. It shattered against the marble—a poetic echo of the destruction she had caused Elise.
"Don't open it," Claire whispered, backing away. "Richard, don't let them in."
But they didn't have a choice. Rosa, the housekeeper who had dragged Elise to the sink, walked out of the kitchen hallway. She looked at Claire with absolute disgust, stepped past the paralyzed family, and unlocked the front door.
A dozen uniformed police officers swarmed into the foyer, followed closely by two plainclothes detectives. And walking right behind them, looking like an absolute force of nature in a tailored black trench coat, was Marianne Warren.
"Claire Delaney, you are under arrest for aggravated assault, battery with a caustic chemical, and reckless endangerment," the lead detective announced, pulling a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt.
"No! No, you can't do this! Do you know who I am?!" Claire screamed as two officers grabbed her arms, forcing them behind her back—the exact same way Matthew had held Elise.
"And Matthew Delaney," the detective continued, turning his hard eyes on the son. "You are under arrest for accessory to aggravated assault, false imprisonment, and filing a false police report."
"Wait, I didn't spray her! I didn't do anything!" Matthew pleaded, backing away until he hit the wall.
"We know exactly what you did, Matthew," Marianne said, stepping forward. Her voice was icy, perfectly controlled, and terrifying. "You held my daughter down while she was tortured. And now, I am going to hold you down while the justice system tears your life apart piece by piece."
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As the cuffs clicked around Matthew's wrists, he looked at his father for help. But Richard simply turned his back, walking away into the dark, silent house that no longer belonged to him.
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