Chapter 4 - Following the Money
The holding cells at the Lincoln Park precinct smelled of damp concrete and stale coffee.
Inside Cell 4, Beatrice Vance sat upright on a cold metal bench, her designer gown hopelessly wrinkled, her dignity completely shredded. Across from her in Cell 5, her son paced back and forth like a caged animal, his custom tuxedo jacket thrown carelessly onto the floor.
"You ruined everything!" Alexander screamed, slamming his palms against the iron bars. "Seven million dollars, gone! The logistics empire, gone! We had it all in the palm of our hands, and you couldn't keep your mouth shut!"
"Do not raise your voice at me, you ungrateful coward!" Beatrice snarled back, standing up and marching to the bars of her own cell. "If I hadn't arranged the financing, you'd still be living in a studio apartment trading crypto! That girl was never going to sign over voting rights to the board voluntarily. Extreme measures were required!"
"You didn't tell me you were going to kill her, Mom! You said you had a 'solution' to the transfer delay!"
"And you were happy to play dumb as long as the accounts cleared!" Beatrice scoffed bitterly. "Don't pretend you had a moral compass, Alexander. You spent six months complaining about how stubborn she was about her father's will."
Before Alexander could fire back, the heavy metal door at the end of the hall swung open. Detective Miller walked in, accompanied by a woman in a sharp navy blue pantsuit carrying a thick leather briefcase.
It wasn't a public defender. It was Elena Vance—Alexander's estranged older sister, who had been cut out of the family trust five years prior for refusing to participate in Beatrice's corporate schemes.
Elena stopped in front of her mother's cell, looking down with a mixture of pity and utter disgust.
"Hello, Mother. Hello, little brother," Elena said calmly, setting her briefcase down on the concrete table.
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here, Elena? Come to gloat?"
"Not quite," Elena replied, opening the folder and pulling out several pages of bank statements and wire transfer logs. "I came to deliver a parting gift. As of three hours ago, Clara Sterling’s legal team filed an absolute annulment on the grounds of fraudulent inducement and attempted homicide. Furthermore, as an independent forensic accountant, the prosecutor's office hired me this morning to trace the funds used to pay Chef Hector."
Alexander stopped pacing, his face turning ash-white. "What... what are you talking about?"
"The seven million dollars didn't come from family savings, Alexander," Elena said smoothly, tapping a finger against the paper. "Mother liquidated your personal trust fund, the vacation home in Aspen, and took out a massive secret loan against the family holding company—using your signature as the primary guarantor."
Alexander stumbled backward, his knees hitting the metal bench. "My... my signature? But I never signed those loan papers!"
"Oh, you did," Elena smiled coldly. "Or rather, Mother forged your handwriting with the power of attorney you granted her when you bought your sports car last year. Legally speaking, mother is the mastermind, but you are the primary debtor on a seven-million-dollar fraudulent loan tied directly to an attempted murder plot. The bank wants their money, the state wants your head, and Clara Sterling has frozen every single asset associated with the Vance family name."
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Beatrice gripped the iron bars, her knuckles turning white. "You arrogant little traitor..."
"I'm just a loving daughter helping the justice system," Elena replied sweetly, snapping her briefcase shut. "Enjoy your stay. The trial starts in three months."
