THE PRICE OF BLOOD: NEW YEAR'S BETRAYAL

While Diane faced probate fraud and embezzlement charges, Claire was crumbling under police questioning at the precinct. Unlike our mother, who possessed a cold, calculating ego, Claire had always been impulsive, spoiled, and terrified of losing her social standing.

Detective Miller brought me into the observation room again later that afternoon. Through the glass, Claire sat sobbing into her cuffed hands, her mascara running in dark streaks down her cheeks.

'I didn't know it was illegal! Mom said Ethan was a billionaire engineer who wouldn't even notice eighty grand missing!' Claire blubbered to her court-appointed public defender.

The public defender, a tired-looking man named Henderson, rubbed his temples in exhaustion. 'Ms. Vance, you signed rental agreements, pawned family heirlooms, and transferred funds using your brother's digital credentials. That's identity theft and wire fraud. The prosecutor isn't offering probation.'

'Call Ethan! Tell him I'm his sister! We share blood!' Claire wailed, banging her head softly against the table.

I opened the door and stepped into the interrogation room. The heavy steel door clicked shut behind me.

Claire jerked her head up, her eyes wide with desperate hope. 'Ethan! Oh, thank God! Please tell these cops it's a misunderstanding! Mom forced me to do it! She told me you wouldn't mind sharing your Dubai money!'

I pulled out a chair opposite her and sat down slowly, resting my forearms on the metal table. I looked at her—my younger sister, whom I had paid through college, whose car I had bought, whose bail I had previously bailed out when she got into trouble in college.

'Claire,' I said softly, my voice devoid of anger. 'When Emily was recovering from major surgery with a newborn baby in a freezing apartment with two packets of mustard and half a bottle of water... did you think about sharing?'

Claire flinched, biting her lip. 'We... we needed a place to stay during New Year's! The Grand Meridian was booked everywhere else! And your house was so depressing, Ethan! It looked like a hospital ward!'

'You sold our furniture,' I said flatly. 'You sold my son's crib. You took the baby blankets.'

'We needed spending cash for shopping!' she cried defensively, her selfish entitlement flaring up even in handcuffs. 'Emily didn't need a designer leather sofa! She's just a commoner who trapped you!'

In a fraction of a second, any lingering brotherly sympathy evaporated. I leaned across the table, my eyes locking onto hers.

'Listen to me very carefully, Claire,' I whispered, each word cold as steel. 'You are looking at ten years in federal prison. Mom can't save you. Her assets are frozen, her trusts are invalid, and her forged signatures are being processed by the DA right now. Unless...'

Claire stopped crying, sniffing loudly. 'Unless what?'

'Unless you sign a full confession detailing every single account, every offshore transfer, and every co-conspirator mom used to drain my father's estate,' I said. 'If you cooperate fully as a state witness against mom, I'll ask the prosecutor to recommend a reduced sentence of probation and rehab.'

Claire stared at me, trembling. 'If I testify against mom... she'll never speak to me again.'