Chapter 5 - THE CELLAR INTERROGATION
Deep beneath the St. Clair estate, in the cold, damp stone vaults original to the 19th-century foundation, Tamsin sat tied to an iron chair under a single hanging bulb.
The sound of rain was completely absent down here—replaced only by the slow, rhythmic drip of groundwater against concrete.
The heavy iron door swung open.
Orson walked in, carrying a thin manila folder. Behind him walked Gabriel and Marcus, who stood silently by the threshold.
Tamsin looked up, her breathing fast and shallow. The bravado she had shown in the dining hall was entirely shattered.
"Orson, please," she whimpered, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "I was forced into this! The Moretti family in New York... they threatened my brother! They said if I didn't swap Mara's inhaler with the tracking drive, they would..."
"Save your breath, Tamsin," Orson said, sitting down on a wooden stool across from her. He opened the folder. "Your brother hasn't lived in New York for three years. He's currently running a shell company for you in the Cayman Islands."
He tossed three printed bank statements onto her lap.
"You took three million dollars from the Moretti syndicate to poison my daughter's medicine," Orson said, his tone deathly quiet.
Tamsin froze. "Poison? I didn't poison her! It was just a tracking device!"
"The micro-SD card was coated in a low-grade chemical solvent designed to slowly degrade inside the leather pouch," Orson explained, his eyes locking onto hers with lethal intensity. "Every time Mara pressed that inhaler to her mouth, she was inhaling microscopic traces of a synthetic toxin designed to induce chronic respiratory failure over six months."
Tamsin’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"You weren't trying to frame me," Orson continued, leaning forward until his face was inches from hers. "You were trying to eliminate my only heir so that upon my death, the entire Vance trust fund would revert directly to you as my surviving spouse."
Tamsin began to shake uncontrollably. "No... no, I didn't know about the toxin! I swear to God, Orson, I didn't know!"
"It doesn't matter whether you knew," Orson said, rising to his feet. "You targeted my daughter. And in my world, that is the only sin that carries no pardon."
He turned toward the door.
"Gabriel."
May you like
"Yes, boss?"
"Hand her over to the federal task force outside. Let them charge her with federal treason, attempted murder of a minor, and espionage." Orson paused at the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. "Make sure she goes to the maximum-security facility in Terre Haute. I want her to spend the rest of her life staring at concrete walls."
