Chapter 14 - THE SINKING SHIP
Back in Tacoma, the illusion of luxury had vanished into thin air, replaced by the harsh, unrelenting glare of a police interrogation room.
The walls were a sterile, institutional gray. The metal table between Beverly and Chloe was scratched and cold. For the past three hours, their high-priced defense attorney—whom they had desperately retained using what little untraceable cash they had stashed in the master bedroom safe—had been pacing back and forth behind them, sweating profusely.
"Listen to me very carefully," the lawyer, Mr. Henderson, hissed, leaning over the table so his face was inches from Beverly’s. "The district attorney has video footage from the neighborhood ring camera. They have the charred remains of the passport and luggage. They have the bank statements showing illegal wire transfers from Arthur Vance’s medical trust directly into Chloe’s boutique account. And worst of all... they have Clara’s sworn affidavit detailing years of systematic financial and psychological abuse."
"She’s lying!" Chloe shrieked, slamming her cuffed hands onto the metal table, rattling the bolts. "She’s a manipulative, ungrateful little liar! We gave her a home! We fed her!"
"You burned her belongings on the front lawn while screaming obscenities at her!" Henderson snapped back, losing his professional composure entirely. "That's not feeding her, Chloe, that's aggravated arson and destruction of property! And Mrs. Vance—" He turned a scathing gaze toward Beverly. "Ordering the destruction of federal identification documents like passports is a federal offense. The feds aren't just looking at state fraud anymore. They’re looking at passport tampering."
Beverly sat slumped in her chair, her face looking ten years older than it had a month ago. Her expensive designer blouse was wrinkled, her makeup was smudged from hours of quiet, angry crying, and her manicured hands were trembling uncontrollably in her lap. The reality of what she had done—and more importantly, the reality that she had lost everything because of her blind, toxic favoritism toward Chloe—was finally crashing down around her.
"Can... can we settle?" Beverly whispered, her voice hollow and defeated. "Can we give her the house? Give her whatever she wants? We can sign the deed over today."
Henderson let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Give it to her? Beverly, the house was already sold by court order yesterday to satisfy the initial civil lien. The proceeds are sitting in an escrow account locked tightly by Clara’s legal team. You don't own this house anymore. The bank does. And by the end of the week, the state is going to foreclose on every asset you have left to pay restitution."
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Chloe buried her face in her hands, letting out a high-pitched, pathetic wail that echoed off the concrete walls. The golden girl of Tacoma, the untouchable princess of the suburbs, had finally hit rock bottom. And there was no one left to burn for her warmth.
***
