Chapter 2 - The Four Days of Silence-2
Brandon took an involuntary step back toward the hallway, his hand reaching behind him for the doorframe. "Clara... what the hell is this? Where are my daughters? Where is our stuff?"
"Our daughters are in a private, secure residence under twenty-four-hour licensed care, far away from you," Clara replied calmly, leaning back in her chair. "And as for our stuff... none of it was yours to begin with. But we’ll get to the asset liquidation in a moment."
The silver-haired man seated beside Clara gestured to the empty chair across the table. "Mr. Vance, I suggest you sit. I am Arthur Pendelton, senior partner at Pendelton & Cross. Beside me are Special Agents Miller and Vance from the Federal Financial Crimes Division. If you attempt to leave this house, the officers parked at the end of your driveway will detain you immediately."
Brandon’s face went pale. The arrogant, dismissive demeanor he had worn four days ago when he packed his fishing gear dissolved into a wave of raw panic. "Federal officers? For what? Leaving my wife with the kids for a weekend? That’s not a crime!"
"No, leaving your wife isn't a crime," Clara said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp register that Brandon had never heard before. "But drugging your wife systematically for five months to induce artificial sleep deprivation, memory loss, and severe cognitive disorientation while you fraudulently transferred her inheritance into offshore shell accounts—that is a very serious crime, Brandon."
Brandon’s breath hitched in his throat. His eyes darted nervously between Clara and the two federal agents. "You're crazy. You're suffering from postpartum psychosis! I told you you couldn't handle twins!"
Clara smiled—a slow, cold, triumphant smile that made Brandon’s stomach drop.
"I thought so too, Brandon," she murmured, picking up a clear glass vial from the table and holding it up to the light. "Until forty-eight hours ago, when I finally had the time and clarity to search your private study locked cabinet."
May you like
She set the vial down beside a forensic toxicology report.
"For six months, I couldn't understand why I was so perpetually exhausted, why my head throbbed every morning, why my memory had gaps, and why I felt like I was drowning even when the babies slept for three straight hours. Every night before you 'generously' made me my evening chamomile tea, you were spiking it with a low-dose liquid benzodiazepine derivative. You weren't helping me rest, Brandon. You were keeping me chemically incapacitated."
