Chapter 6 - The Confession In The Glass Room
Arthur dropped his whiskey glass. It hit the thick wool carpet with a dull thud, the dark liquid splashing across the cream-colored fibers like fresh ink. The judge beside him stepped back as if physical distance could shield him from the contagion of my presence, his eyes darting toward the open hallway before thinking better of it. The remaining guests in the private alcove retreated toward the outer doors in breathless, terrified silence, leaving Arthur stranded against the panoramic glass wall overlooking the glittering expanse of the city below.
"You shouldn't be here," Arthur whispered, his throat working dryly as he tried to swallow. He pressed his palms flat against the window sill behind him, finding no purchase. "This is private property. Security—"
"Security is currently dealing with a flat tire on the service road, courtesy of Viktor," I said, closing the distance between us until the space between our chests narrowed to a span of inches. I reached out, my fingers curling into the lapel of his expensive designer tuxedo, and hoisted him slightly off his heels until his toes barely brushed the carpet. "You signed the probate division yesterday. You declared my daughter nonexistent."
"I don't—I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur stammered, his eyes wide, bulging with sheer panic as he stared at the dark ink crawling up the side of my neck and onto my jawline. "It was legal. The court documents were filed in good faith. The mother was gone, and the estate required immediate liquidation to cover outstanding liabilities—"
"She wasn't a liability, Arthur. She was a child living in a basement while you divided her mother's silver," I murmured, my voice dropping to a low, lethal hum that only the two of us could hear. I reached inside my suit jacket with my free hand, withdrawing the silver locket I had slipped into my pocket after taking it from Liliana's neck. I dangled it before his face, the small metal disc swinging on its broken chain. "Recognize this? Her mother wore it every day. And my daughter was wearing it when I found her kneeling in the mud beside a fresh grave."
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Arthur's gaze dropped to the locket, and every shred of arrogant denial evaporated from his posture. His knees buckled slightly, his weight sagging into my grip. "She... she wasn't supposed to be there. The arrangement was for her to be placed with a foster agency upstate. Someone... someone didn't follow through."
"Who?" I demanded, tightening my grip on his lapel until the fabric strained against the threads. "Give me the name, Arthur. Give me the name before I decide your legal career is the second thing I dismantle tonight."
