Chapter 7 - The Silence of the Pawn
The federal holding facility was a sterile, unforgiving maze of concrete and steel. Victoria sat in an interrogation booth, the orange jumpsuit scratching her skin. The arrogant fire that had fueled her in the courtroom was entirely extinguished. She looked hollowed out.
The heavy door opened, and Agent Vance stepped inside, followed closely by Julian.
Victoria flinched, shrinking back into her plastic chair. "Julian... please. You have to get me out of here."
"I don't have to do anything," Julian said, taking the seat across from her. He placed a single file folder on the table. "We know about Desmond, Victoria."
Victoria’s breath hitched. A look of genuine, unfiltered terror washed over her face. It was the first honest emotion Julian had seen from her in five years.
"If you know about him, then you know I can't say anything," she whispered, her eyes darting toward the security camera in the corner of the room. "He has eyes everywhere. If I talk, I'm dead. And not just me. He will kill my sister in London. He'll kill her kids."
"Your sister is already in protective custody under the British authorities," Agent Vance interjected smoothly. "We coordinated with MI5 the moment Elias Thorne gave us Desmond's name. Your family is safe. You, however, are looking at twenty years in a maximum-security cell. Desmond can definitely reach you in there."
Victoria swallowed hard, tears finally spilling over her eyelashes and cutting tracks through her smudged makeup.
"Desmond found me when I was twenty-two," Victoria confessed, her voice shaking. "I was drowning in debt, working as a hostess at a high-end club. He paid off my loans. He bought my clothes. He trained me. He told me exactly what to say to make you fall in love with me, Julian. He knew your psychological profile inside and out."
"And the endgame?" Julian demanded, ignoring the sharp sting in his chest. "Why not just have me killed?"
"Because of the trust," Victoria choked out. "Your father's iron-clad trust. If you died, the money went to charity. The only way to get the estate was to gain Power of Attorney over your mother, drain the liquid assets, and then force you into a divorce where I would take half the company shares. Desmond wanted the company back. He felt your father stole it from him."
"Where is he hiding?" Vance pressed.
"I don't know!" Victoria sobbed. "I never knew where he was. We only communicated through a secure messaging app on a burner phone. The phone was in my Mercedes. It self-wipes if you enter the wrong passcode."
Julian leaned forward. "What was the passcode, Victoria?"
She hesitated, her eyes filled with fear. "If I tell you... I want it in writing. Witness protection. A new identity. I won't survive a week in general population."
Vance pulled a document from his jacket and slid it across the table along with a pen. "Sign it. Give us the code. We'll move you to a secure black site tonight."
Victoria’s trembling hand took the pen. She scribbled her signature, then wrote a six-digit alphanumeric code on the bottom of the page.
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Julian stared at the numbers. It was the date of his father's funeral. Desmond’s twisted sense of victory.
He stood up, looking down at the woman he had called his wife. "You sold your soul for a man who viewed you as nothing more than a disposable tool. Enjoy your new life, Victoria. You'll never see me again."
