Chapter 6 - Into the Lion’s Den
The interrogation rooms at the Chicago Central Precinct were cold, gray, and smelled of industrial cleaner. Camila sat behind the two-way mirror in the observation booth, her eyes fixed on Steven, who was currently slouched in a metal chair across from his high-priced corporate defense attorney, a man named Arthur Sterling.
"My client has nothing to say to you, Detective," Sterling said, slamming his leather briefcase onto the table. "The statement made by Victoria Vance was coerced under extreme emotional distress. There is no physical evidence linking my client to the alleged administration of any toxic substance."
Detective Cruz walked into the room, holding a plastic evidence bag. Inside the bag was a small, silver thermos that had been recovered from Steven’s vehicle in the Drake Hotel parking lot.
"We ran a rapid chemical sweep of your car, Mr. Vance," Cruz said, setting the bag down gently on the table. "Your sister was kind enough to give us the keys to your private locker at the Gold Coast apartment as well. Inside the locker, we found three industrial-grade vials of thallium sulfate, purchased through a medical supply company registered under your private holdings LLC in Delaware. And this thermos? It contains the remains of a protein shake you prepared for your son this morning. The lab just called. It has enough thallium in it to kill an adult horse."
Arthur Sterling looked at the evidence bag, then looked at Steven. The attorney slowly closed his briefcase, stood up, and walked to the corner of the room, completely abandoning his client.
"Steven," Sterling said, his voice cold. "You lied to me. I’m withdrawing as your counsel. Good luck."
"Arthur, wait!" Steven panicked, slamming his hands on the table as the lawyer walked out of the room without looking back. He turned his desperate, sweating face to Detective Cruz. "It wasn't my idea! You don't understand! My mother... Eleanor... she was the one who insisted! The trust fund... my grandfather’s will dictated that if I didn't produce a living male heir within seven years of the marriage, the entire hotel chain would revert to the public charitable foundation. I needed the boy alive until his sixth birthday—which was last week! Once the trust assets transferred into my personal account, the boy became a liability. A living proof of a medical fraud that could ruin our corporate valuation if it ever came out!"
In the observation room, Camila felt a sudden, profound sense of disgust wash over her. It had all been a mathematical equation to them. A child’s life, a mother’s sanity, six years of systematic torture—all balanced against a corporate valuation and a grandfather's trust fund.
She walked out of the observation booth, down the short hallway, and pushed open the door to the interrogation room. The officers didn't stop her.
Steven looked up, his eyes wide and bloodshot as Camila stepped into the light. "Camila... please. Talk to the DA. I can give you half the fortune. I can buy you the house in the suburbs back. You can have whatever you want. Just tell them it was Eleanor. She was the one who planned the swap at the hospital!"
Camila walked over to the table, leaning down until her face was inches from his.
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"Six years ago, Steven, you left me in a room full of wilted flowers and told me I was a biological error," she said, her voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly gentle whisper. "You took my son from my arms and let me believe I had killed him. I don't want your money. I don't want your hotels. I want to watch you spend the next thirty years in a concrete box, knowing that the 'biological error' you despised is the only reason you're going to die in a prison jumpsuit."
She turned her back on him, walking out of the room without waiting for his response, leaving him to drown in the ruin of his own creation.
