Chapter 13 - THE CONFESSION DEAL
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Elena stared at the document pressed against the scratched plexiglass. Her hands were shaking so hard the steel handcuffs rattled against the table.
"What do you want?" Elena choked out, tears of humiliation burning her cheeks. "You already destroyed my life. What else is there?"
"I want the Swiss account numbers," Victoria said without missing a beat.
Elena blinked, trying to process the words. "What Swiss accounts? Julian said all the offshore money went through the Cayman shell company!"
"Julian lied to you about that, too," Victoria replied with a cold, mocking smile. "Julian was planning on cutting you out from the very beginning, Elena. Did you really think a man who would poison his wife of seven years was going to share forty million dollars with his side piece?"
Elena’s jaw trembled. "You're lying. He loved me. He bought me the Soho duplex!"
Victoria pulled a second paper from her folder and held it to the glass. It was a one-way first-class airline ticket to Buenos Aires, dated for the upcoming Sunday night. Passenger name: Julian Vance.
No plus-one. No companion ticket. Just one seat in first class, booked three weeks before Victoria’s hospital admission.
Elena stared at the ticket, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The realization hit her like an icy tidal wave. She had been used, discarded, and set up to take the fall.
"He was going to leave me," Elena whispered, her voice barely audible through the earpiece. "He was going to let me go down for the embezzlement while he disappeared with the cash."
"Sign the state’s evidence agreement," Victoria instructed her, tapping the glass with her manicured fingernail. "Testify against Julian on the first-degree attempted murder charges. Hand over the encrypted hard drives he stored in your Soho closet. In exchange, I drop the asset recovery forfeiture against your mother’s home, and Marcus will arrange for your conspiracy charges to be reduced to five years in minimum security."
Elena looked up at Victoria. There was no warmth in Victoria’s eyes, but there was an undeniable, terrifying honesty.
"And if I refuse?" Elena asked quietly.
Victoria leaned in close to the receiver, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "If you refuse, I will personally fund a private legal task force to ensure you receive the maximum thirty-year sentence at Bedford Hills. You will rot in a six-by-eight cell until you are an old, forgotten woman."
Elena swallowed hard. She didn't hesitate another second.
"Bring me the pen," she whispered.
Victoria gave a small, satisfied nod. She hung up the telephone receiver, stood up smoothly, and knocked twice on the heavy steel door.
As the guard unlocked the door, Victoria glanced back over her shoulder one last time. "Have a pleasant stay, Elena. Orange really isn't your color."
Victoria stepped out into the prison corridor, where Marcus Kane was already waiting with his briefcase.
"Did she sign?" Marcus asked.
"She’s singing like a canary," Victoria replied, walking toward the exit gates. "Get the arrest warrants updated for Julian’s co-conspirators in Geneva. We're closing the loop."
"There's one more thing, Victoria," Marcus said, his voice unusually hesitant. He handed her a sealed black envelope.
"What's this?"
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"A courier dropped it off at the penthouse an hour ago," Marcus said. "It has no return address. Just your name, written in your father’s handwriting."
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