Chapter 6 - The Unraveling
Marianne’s breath hitched in her throat. She gripped the edge of the desk so hard her knuckles turned white.
“Awake...?” she whispered, her lips trembling. “No... no, that’s impossible. Dr. Julian said... he said the cardiac failure was permanent...”
“Dr. Julian lied to you,” I said, taking another step closer. “Or maybe you were just so blinded by your four-million-dollar gambling debt that you believed whatever lie made it easier for you to cremate your own child alive.”
“I didn't want to kill her!” Marianne suddenly shrieked, breaking into hysterical, ugly sobs, her hands clawing at her face. “I just wanted the trust money! Emma was going to give it all to you! You—a penniless accountant! She was going to throw away her father’s fortune on a quiet life with a nobody! That money belonged to this family!”
“That money belonged to her father, who knew exactly what kind of monster you were,” I replied coldly.
Miller stepped forward, grabbing Dr. Julian’s arms and forcing him down onto his knees, pulling his silver revolver from his jacket and tossing it across the floor. He snapped heavy handcuffs onto the doctor’s wrists.
“Julian, you’re under arrest for attempted capital murder, medical malpractice, and conspiracy,” Miller said firmly.
“It was her!” Julian yelled, pointing a trembling finger at Marianne. “She paid me! She brought me the Panamanian poison! She told me Emma was having an affair and that the baby wasn't even her husband's! She manipulated me!”
“You absolute coward!” Marianne screamed, lunging toward Julian with her nails outstretched, but Miller caught her by the shoulder, shoving her back into the armchair.
“Save it for the grand jury, both of you,” Miller said, pulling out a second pair of cuffs.
I walked past them, stepping over to the open wall safe behind the painting. Inside lay stacks of bound hundred-dollar bills, three ledger books wrapped in leather, and a small black USB drive labeled St. Matthew’s Records.
I picked up the USB drive and held it up in front of Marianne’s pale, tear-streaked face.
“What is this, Marianne?” I asked softly.
She looked at the drive, then closed her eyes, bowing her head as if the final thread of her sanity had snapped.
“It’s the patient list,” Julian mumbled from the floor, his face pressed against the carpet under Miller’s knee. “Julian’s clinic... he’s been doing this for three years. Fake death certificates for wealthy elderly patients... taking a cut from their insurance policies...”
I stared at the black drive in my palm, feeling a deep, sickening horror. This wasn't just about Emma. This was a systematic, corporate murder engine that had harvested dozens of lives right under the city's nose.
“You aren't just going to prison, Marianne,” I whispered, looking down at her bowed head. “You’re going to be remembered as the monster who sold her family for paper.”
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Two more police officers entered the room, grabbing Marianne under the arms and hoisting her out of the chair. She didn't fight. She didn't scream anymore. She was dragged out into the rain like a hollow shell, her diamonds glittering uselessly under the flashing blue lights of the squad cars outside.
I looked at Miller. “Take the drive to the federal prosecutor. I’m going back to my daughter.”
