Chapter 12 - The Interrogation Cell-12
The concrete walls of the federal holding facility interrogation room were cold and damp. Gavin Barrett sat handcuffed to a heavy metal table, wearing standard orange inmate scrubs that swallowed his once-proud frame. His hair was disheveled, his face unshaven, and the arrogant, cocky smirk that had defined his demeanor was entirely gone, replaced by a mask of desperate panic.
The heavy steel door swung open with a loud metallic clank.
I walked into the room alone, wearing my charcoal-gray suit, my heels clicking sharply against the concrete floor. I pulled out the metal chair opposite him and sat down, placing a single manila folder on the table.
Gavin jerked his head upward, his bloodshot eyes widening in fury and disbelief.
"Naomi...?" he hissed, straining against his handcuffs. "You... you bitch! What is the meaning of this? Get me out of here! My lawyers are going to sue you into the stone age!"
"Your lawyers dropped you the moment federal agents seized your offshore accounts, Gavin," I replied smoothly, resting my chin on my intertwined fingers. "And as for your legal prospects, let's just say 'stone age' is an optimistic description of spending the rest of your natural life in a maximum-security federal penitentiary."
Gavin snarled, slamming his bound wrists onto the table. "You think you're so smart, don't you? You're just a rich man's daughter who inherited everything! Without Ross Albright, you're a nobody!"
I didn't flinch. I didn't raise my voice. I simply smiled—a quiet, glacial smile that unnerved him more than any outburst could have.
"My father taught me how to read balance sheets, Gavin," I whispered, leaning forward. "He also taught me how to hunt predators. You thought you could poison me with Aegis-7, steal my company, throw me out in the storm, and murder my father to cover your tracks?"
Gavin went completely rigid. The color vanished from his face, and his breath hitched in his throat.
"H-How... how do you know about that...?" he stammered, his bravado instantly shattering into raw terror.
"Clara Hayes kept backups, Gavin. And the federal counter-intelligence division has all the wire transfers to your Zurich handlers," I said softly, sliding a copy of the indictment summary across the table. "You didn't just commit corporate fraud. You committed treason and murder. You're facing life without parole."
Gavin slumped forward, burying his face in his cuffed hands as a pathetic, broken sob escaped his lips. "Please, Naomi... we were married... have mercy..."
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"Mercy," I repeated quietly, standing up and smoothing my jacket. "Is the same mercy you showed my father when you cut his brakes? Is the same mercy you showed me when you left me bleeding in the mud?"
I turned toward the door, not looking back. "Enjoy your new home, Gavin. The Albright dynasty outlived you by a century, and it will outlive you by a thousand more."
