Chapter 553:
“That,” Seraphina said, her voice devoid of heat, “was for twenty missed birthdays.”
The Dowager touched her bleeding lip, staring at Seraphina in shock. “You… you’re broken. You should be broken.”
“I was,” Seraphina agreed. “But my daughter fixed me. And now, I’m going to break you.”
“Take them to the interrogation room,” I ordered. “This hallway is too public. And I need acoustics.”
The guards, realizing which way the wind was blowing, vanished. The cameras in the hallway dipped their heads, turning to face the wall.
The interrogation room smelled of fear and ozone. The Dowager was slumped in her chair, sweat soaking her gray jumpsuit. She wasn’t bleeding—our methods were too precise for that—but her psychological armor was cracking. Every glare from Seraphina was a hammer blow to her ego.
Zelda had passed out ten minutes ago from sheer terror. Uncle Arthur had thrown a cup of cold water on her to wake her up. She was currently whimpering in the corner, rocking back and forth.
I wiped my hands on a sterile cloth. “You’re tough,” I admitted to the Dowager. “Most people break after the financial records are read. But you… you still think the Council is coming for you.”
“They will,” the Dowager wheezed. “Silas Vane… he values my contributions.”
“Silas Vane is in a black site in Geneva,” Elias said, leaning against the wall, his voice cool and detached. “We dismantled his network three days ago. You are the last loose end.”
“Liar!” the Dowager shrieked. “He is untouchable!”
“I touched him,” I said, my voice dark. “I burned his legacy to the ground. Just like I’m burning yours.”
I nodded to Elias, who was holding a tablet connected to a projector. “Play it.”
𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓬𝓴 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝗮𝘁 gⲁ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⩷ℭ𝗈𝗺
A beam of light cut through the dim room, hitting the concrete wall. A video began to play. It was grainy, security footage timestamped three days ago.
It showed a hospital room. In the bed lay a man, paralyzed, hooked up to machines. His eyes were the only thing moving, darting frantically.
“Zane…” the Dowager breathed. “My son… he’s alive?”
“He was,” I corrected. “Alive enough to talk. Or rather, to blink.”
On the screen, an investigator was holding an alphabet board. Zane was blinking rapidly. The investigator wrote down the letters.
M-O-T-H-E-R. P-L-A-N-N-E-D. I-T. S-H-E. K-E-P-T. A-L-L. M-O-N-E-Y.
“He sold you out,” I said softly. “He told us everything. The offshore accounts. The bribes to the judges. The location of the ‘training’ room.”
“Liar!” the Dowager shrieked. “He would never! I did everything for him! The estate, the power—it was all for him!”
“Was it?” Seraphina asked, stepping into the light. “Or was he just another pet? Another thing for you to control? He hated you, you know. He told me, in the dark, that he wished you had died instead of his father.”
The video cut. A new scene appeared. A gloved hand reached into the frame. It wasn’t my hand. It was a black leather glove with a silver insignia—the Council’s cleanup crew. It reached for the ventilator plug.
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.
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