Chapter 7 - The Interrogation
The holding cell deep inside the Manhattan Central Detention Complex was cold and smelled of floor cleaner. Miranda sat on a bolted metal bench, her hands cuffed in front of her. The sleek ivory dress she had worn by the pool was now wrinkled and stained. Her long dark hair hung messy around her pale, drawn face.
The heavy steel door unlocked with a loud electronic click. Detective Marcus Miller stepped inside, tossing a thick blue folder onto the metal table, followed by Everett and his attorney, Harold.
Miranda jumped up, her chains rattling. "Everett! Thank God! You have to get me out of here. Those dirty cops placed me in a cell with violent criminals! Call the commissioner immediately!"
Everett stood near the door, his hands in the pockets of his dark tailored suit, his face unreadable. "The commissioner won't take your calls, Miranda. Neither will any reputable lawyer in the city."
"What are you talking about?!" she cried out, her voice cracking. "I am your wife! You can't leave me in this dump!"
"Richard Sterling was arrested three hours ago at my corporate headquarters," Everett said coldly. "The FBI seized all his firm's server logs. Every wire transfer, every offshore account, and every text message between you, Bryce, and Sterling regarding Daisy's trust fund is now in federal custody."
Miranda froze, her chest heaving as she swallowed hard. "Everett... Bryce made me do it. He threatened to release old photos of me from before we met! I was terrified!"
Detective Miller opened the blue folder, pulling out printed transcripts. "Mrs. Vance, we pulled your encrypted chat history with Bryce from three months ago. On June 14th, you texted him: 'If we make the kid's health crisis look like an accident, Everett will be too broken to fight us for the estate.' That doesn't sound like someone being blackmailed."
Miranda's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes darted frantically between the detective and Everett.
"I signed the divorce papers and the full forfeiture of marital assets an hour ago," Everett said, stepping closer to the table. "You have two choices, Miranda. You can sign the agreement, waive all rights to my daughter and my estate, and plead guilty to child endangerment—or you can go to trial on federal conspiracy charges with a guaranteed twenty-year sentence."
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"You... you're stripping me of everything?!" Miranda whispered, her voice filled with pure venom. "I spent three years playing the loving stepmother to that annoying brat!"
"That 'annoying brat' is my daughter," Everett said, his voice dropping to an icy whisper that made her shiver. "And you will never see her, my money, or daylight outside a concrete cell for a very long time. Sign the papers."
