Chapter 12 - The Interrogation
The holding cell at the Wake County Detention Center smelled of bleach, damp concrete, and unwashed despair. Evan sat on the steel bunk, his handcuffs removed, staring blankly at the concrete floor. His expensive suit was now a wrinkled, stained rag; his hair was matted; and the arrogant, untouchable corporate executive of two weeks ago had completely vanished.
The heavy metal door clanked open. A federal prosecutor named David Vance—Marcus’s younger cousin—stepped into the small interrogation room, followed by a court stenographer carrying a laptop.
"Good evening, Mr. Bennett," David said smoothly, sitting down across the metal table and opening a thick leather folder. "I hope you're settling in comfortably. You have a very long stay ahead of you.
Evan looked up, his eyes bloodshot and desperate. "This is a setup. Claire orchestrated all of this! She used her majority shares to frame me, to take away my company, to ruin my life!"
"Your company?" David raised an eyebrow, sliding a sheaf of documents across the table. "Let’s review the facts, Mr. Bennett. These are the corporate wire transfer logs, signed by your digital authorization key, routing over four million dollars in unauthorized project expenses to offshore shell accounts controlled jointly by you and Sabrina Cole.
Evan stared at the papers, his throat going dry. "Sabrina... Sabrina handled the project accounts! She set up those transfers! I just signed off on them because she told me they were routine consultant fees for the Apex Global merger!"
"That is fascinating," David replied calmly. "Because federal agents just finished extracting all data from Ms. Cole’s encrypted cloud storage. We recovered over five thousand text messages, emails, and recorded phone calls between you and her dating back over two years. In those communications, you explicitly instructed her on how to falsify expense codes, how to bypass internal auditing thresholds, and how to split the embezzled funds into your private Cayman Islands accounts."
Evan’s breath caught in his throat. "She recorded me?"
"People who commit federal crimes tend to protect themselves, Mr. Bennett," David said, leaning forward. "Ms. Cole has already agreed to a full cooperation plea deal. She has confessed to her role in the scheme and provided conclusive testimony establishing that you were the mastermind behind the entire operation.
"She’s lying! She’s trying to save her own skin!" Evan shouted, slamming his fist onto the metal table.
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"She may be saving her skin, but her testimony is backed up by undeniable forensic proof—your digital signature, your IP address, your personal bank routing numbers," David said, closing the folder with a sharp snap. "The maximum sentence for the charges against you is thirty-five years in federal prison without parole. Unless, of course, you wish to cooperate and plead guilty to lesser charges, in which case the prosecution might recommend a twenty-year sentence.
Evan stared across the table, the full weight of his reality crashing down upon him. He had lost his son, his wife, his fortune, his freedom, and his future—all because he chose a bottle of champagne and a hotel room over a dying child.
