Chapter 3 - The Interrogation and the Mask SlippingDown at the central precinct, the holding cells were cold, smelling of stale disinfectant and unwashed panic.
I sat behind the two-way glass in the observation room, watching the proceedings in Interrogation Room B. Ryan sat at the metal table wearing an orange jumpsuit, his hair disheveled, his usual arrogant posture replaced by a frantic, sweating agitation.
Seated across from him were Detective Miller and a federal prosecutor specializing in white-collar racketeering.
"I want my attorney!" Ryan shouted, slamming his cuffed hands against the steel table. "You have no right holding me! My father is a respected businessman! We are pillars of this community!"
The prosecutor, a sharp-eyed woman named Sarah Jenkins, didn't even blink. She casually slid a single sheet of paper across the table—a certified forensic copy of the forged power-of-attorney document bearing my name.
"Mr. Bennett, you aren't being held on a simple domestic dispute anymore," Jenkins said calmly. "The U.S. Attorney’s Office has formally indicted you, your father Grant, and your mother Diane on twelve counts of wire fraud, identity theft, grand larceny, and conspiracy to commit financial extortion totaling over fourteen million dollars."
Ryan laughed—a high-pitched, hysterical sound that lacked any real humor. "That's ridiculous! Claire signed those papers voluntarily! We're married! What's mine is hers, and what's hers is mine!"
"Except the penthouse is deeded solely in Claire Bennett's pre-marital name," Jenkins countered smoothly. "And the Apex Cloud Security stock options were vested three years before you ever met her. Furthermore, Mr. Bennett, let's talk about Boston. Let's talk about Evelyn Vance."
The color drained entirely from Ryan’s face. The arrogant sneer vanished, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated terror.
"I... I don't know any Evelyn," Ryan stammered, his eyes darting frantically toward the one-way mirror.
Behind the glass, I stepped closer, my fingers resting against the cold surface as I watched the man who had held my wrists while his father burned my flesh.
"He knows," I whispered to Miller. "He knows exactly who she was."
"We have the medical examiner's reopened file on Evelyn's death," Jenkins continued in the interrogation room, leaning forward over the table. "And more importantly, we have the original life insurance payout documents signed by your father, designating you as the sole primary beneficiary of a dead woman who 'accidentally' fell down the stairs three months after executing a will leaving everything to you."
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Ryan stood up so violently his metal chair crashed backward onto the concrete floor. "It was an accident! She was unstable! Just like Claire! They're both crazy!"
"Sit down, Mr. Bennett," Miller barked, stepping into the room and shoving Ryan back down into his seat with practiced authority. "The game is over."
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