Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Room
The federal holding facility downtown smelled of industrial cleaner, ozone, and old paper.
The interrogation room was a windowless box of cinder block and gray paint, illuminated by a harsh fluorescent tube that hummed with a low, agonizing frequency. I sat at the metal table with my wrists uncuffed—a minor concession granted after Margaret Shaw arrived like a storm cloud thirty minutes prior, waving an emergency injunction and demanding immediate access.
Margaret sat directly across from me, her sharp eyes scanning the preliminary charges sheet while the digital recorder blinked a steady, accusing red light.
"They're trying to pin the entire corporate shell restructuring on you, Nora," Margaret said, her voice low and furious as she dropped the papers onto the steel table. "Arthur Vance has structured this indictment so that every fraudulent transaction leads straight back to your compliance signature. If we don't present the offline backup logs immediately, you're looking at twenty years in a federal penitentiary."
"They won't get twenty years, Margaret, because I'm not taking the fall for Adrian or Vance," I said calmly. I unbuttoned my blazer, reached into the lining, and pulled out the small black flash drive, laying it flat on the table between us.
Margaret stared at it, her breath catching. "Is that—?"
"Everything," I said. "Every offline keycard log, every server access timestamp from Marcus, and every digital file proving that Adrian's signature was duplicated and my master admin credentials were stolen remotely."
The heavy metal door clicked open, and Assistant U.S. Attorney Vance stepped inside, followed by two junior investigators. He looked smug, as if he expected to walk in and find me broken and ready to sign a confession plea deal.
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"Well, Mrs. Vale," the prosecutor said, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite us with a self-satisfied smirk. "I hope you've spent the last hour reflecting on your options. Because right now, your husband's legal team is cutting a deal to save the holding company—at your expense."
Margaret leaned back, crossing her arms with a cold, devastating smile. "Before my client says another word, Counselor, I suggest you plug this flash drive into your secure terminal and look at file three."
