Chapter 4 - The Interrogation Room
The fluorescent lights of the downtown Chicago police precinct hummed a monotonous, sterile tune. In Interrogation Room B, the air smelled of stale coffee, old vinyl chairs, and quiet desperation.
Derek Carter sat slumped across the metal table, his head in his hands, staring at his own reflection in the two-way mirror. The arrogant corporate executive who had sneered at his wife just two hours ago had completely vanished, replaced by a sweating, panicked coward calculating how many years he was facing in a federal penitentiary.
The heavy steel door swung open.
Arthur Vance walked in, followed by Detective Miller, a seasoned homicide and white-collar crimes investigator who had worked with Arthur back in his DOJ days. Arthur didn't sit down immediately. He stood behind the metal chair, placing both hands flat on the table, leaning forward into Derek’s personal space.
“Look at me, Derek,” Arthur commanded quietly.
Derek slowly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot and filled with venom. “You’re destroying your own family over a domestic dispute? You think federal prosecutors are going to waste time on a marital spat?”
“Marital spat?” Arthur let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “You didn't just slap my daughter, Derek. You embezzled four million dollars from her maternal trust fund, forged her signature on corporate property deeds, and conspired with your mother to medically incapacitate her under the guise of mental instability. In the state of Illinois, financial abuse combined with premeditated isolation carries a mandatory minimum of fifteen years. Without parole.”
Derek swallowed hard, his throat dry. “My lawyers will—your lawyers can't prove intent—”
“My lawyers wrote the federal guidelines you just violated,” Detective Miller interrupted, tossing a thick manila folder onto the table with a loud thud. Inside were photocopied checks, wire transfers routed to offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands under Victoria’s maiden name, and signed medical affidavits proving Lucy had never suffered from any psychological disorders. “Your mother already gave a full confession down in Room A, Mr. Carter. She threw you under the bus the second the cuffs clicked on her wrists. She told us you orchestrated the entire transfer of the Vanguard estate funds to pay off your private gambling debts in Rosemont.”
Derek’s jaw went slack. “She... she lied. She told me to do it!”
“Family values at their finest,” Arthur said with chilling detachment. He straightened his tie, picked up his briefcase, and turned toward the door. “Enjoy your night in lockup, Derek. Tomorrow morning, the grand jury formally indicts you both on twelve counts of grand larceny and fraud.”
As Arthur stepped out into the observation hallway, he found Lucy sitting quietly on a wooden bench, sipping a cup of warm black coffee provided by the precinct captain. Her face was still bruised, but her posture was upright, radiating a quiet, indomitable strength.
“How did it go?” she asked softly, looking up at her father.
Arthur sat down on the bench beside her, wrapping a warm, protective arm around her shoulders. “Your mother confessed and blamed Derek. Derek is currently trying to figure out how to blame everyone else. The accounts are completely frozen, the federal receivers have seized their corporate assets, and their penthouse is already under foreclosure notice.”
Lucy closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath. For three years, she had felt like a prisoner in her own skin, convinced that she was trapped forever in a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. Now, the cage was gone.
“Thank you, Dad,” she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. “If you hadn't walked through that door tonight...”
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“I told you when you were ten years old, sweetheart,” Arthur murmured, kissing the top of her head. “Nobody touches my family and gets away with it. Not in my courtroom, and not in this city.”
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