Chapter 7 - The Interrogation
The Central District Police Station was swarming with national media crews by nine in the morning. Satellite trucks lined the street outside, their tall broadcast dishes aimed at the grey stone building where one of the city's most prominent socialites was being held in a stark, windowless holding cell.
Inside Interrogation Room B, Vivienne Vance sat at a metal table, her hands handcuffed in front of her.
She no longer looked like the flawless, radiant hostess of the Blackstone gala. Her blonde hair was disheveled, her expensive ivory gown was torn and stained with dirt, and the dark mascara running down her cheeks gave her a wild, haggard appearance. Sitting beside her was Arthur Vance, her father—a powerful, white-haired state senator with cold grey eyes and an arrogant demeanor.
Across the table sat Detective Vance and District Attorney Evelyn Reed, a sharp, unyielding prosecutor known for taking down corrupt elite figures.
"This entire situation is a preposterous overreach driven by media frenzy!" Senator Vance shouted, slamming his heavy hand onto the metal table. "My daughter is a philanthropist! She has dedicated her life to charitable causes! This housekeeper—this illegal opportunist—staged this whole event to extort money from the Blackstone estate!"
DA Reed didn't even blink. She opened a thick blue folder and laid three high-resolution photographs onto the table in front of Vivienne.
The first was a photo of the hidden passage, showing the dirt, the stale bread, and the small child’s footprints.
The second was a photo of the brass padlock mechanism, showing a clear, high-definition fingerprint lifted directly from the latch.
"This fingerprint belongs to you, Vivienne," DA Reed said calmly. "Lifting it was quite easy, given that you weren't wearing gloves when you checked the lock at six o'clock yesterday evening, right before your guests arrived."
Vivienne flinched, her eyes darting frantically to her father. "Dad..."
"Be quiet, Vivienne!" Senator Vance snapped. "They have no proof she put the boy in there! The boy is disturbed! He could have touched the lock himself!"
DA Reed laid down the third document. It was a printed certified transcript of a phone call recorded at 5:14 PM the previous afternoon—just two hours before the gala began.
"This is a legally intercepted phone recording from the Swiss medical facility," DA Reed stated, her voice slicing through the tense room like a scalpel. "In this recording, Vivienne Vance explicitly instructs the facility director to prepare a tranquilizer team to receive a 'severely combative seven-year-old patient' arriving via private transport at dawn. She explicitly states, and I quote: 'Keep him sedated until the probate hearing is finalized. His father will not be allowed to visit.'"
Senator Vance’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His face flushed a dangerous, mottled red as he stared at his daughter in absolute horror. "Vivienne... what did you do?"
Vivienne began to shake violently. The cold, unfeeling reality of her situation finally breached her defense of privilege and denial. She looked at the tape recording, then at the photographs of the dark, filthy passage.
"He was always talking about her!" Vivienne suddenly shrieked, her voice cracking into a high-pitched, hysterical scream that echoed off the bare walls. "Every single day! 'Mommy liked these flowers! Mommy used to read me this book! Mommy’s conservatory!' I couldn't stand it! Julian looked at him and saw her! He never looked at me! He never loved me!"
"So you locked a seven-year-old child in a wall to steal his inheritance?!" DA Reed barked, leaning across the table, her eyes burning with righteous disgust.
"I deserved that money!" Vivienne sobbed, burying her face in her handcuffed hands. "I brought Julian back into society! I rebuilt his image! I played the perfect wife while he moped over a dead woman! I was entitled to my share of that company!"
Senator Vance slowly pushed his chair back from the table. He looked at his hysterical daughter not with paternal concern, but with profound, utter humiliation. He realized in that instant that no amount of political capital, no amount of money, and no legal trickery could save her from the overwhelming weight of her own recorded madness.
May you like
"You're on your own, Vivienne," Senator Vance whispered, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. "I will not ruin my career for this."
"Dad! No! Don't leave me! Dad!" Vivienne screamed as her father turned his back and walked out of the interrogation room, leaving her alone with the prosecutor, the detective, and the inescapable consequences of her unthinkable cruelty.
