Part4
The police station was loud,
chaotic,
and smelled faintly of stale coffee.
Detective Miller,
a seasoned investigator with graying hair,
sat across from Arthur in a dim interrogation room.
"We got the lab results back,"
Miller said,
tossing a thick manila folder onto the metal table.
"And I have to be honest,
Mr. Vance,
you are an incredibly lucky man."
Arthur swallowed hard,
clutching a paper cup of water,
his knuckles turning white.
"What was it?"
Arthur asked,
dreading the answer,
but needing to know the truth.
"It wasn't rat poison,
or antifreeze,
or anything you can buy at a local hardware store,"
Miller explained,
leaning forward.
"It was a synthetic neurotoxin,
military grade,
incredibly difficult to obtain,
and nearly impossible to trace during a standard autopsy."
Arthur felt a cold sweat break out,
shivering despite the warmth of the small room.
"If you had taken even a single bite,"
Miller continued,
his voice grave,
"your heart would have stopped within three minutes.
It would have looked exactly like a sudden,
massive heart attack.
No one would have suspected foul play,
especially given your family's history of heart disease."
Arthur rubbed his eyes,
the horrifying reality sinking deep into his bones.
Evelyn had not just wanted him dead,
she had planned the perfect,
undetectable murder.
"But why?"
Arthur asked,
his voice barely a whisper,
echoing off the concrete walls.
"We signed a prenuptial agreement,
she wouldn't get the company if I died,
only a modest life insurance payout."
Detective Miller opened the folder,
pulling out several bank statements,
and sliding them toward Arthur.
"That is where this case gets interesting,"
Miller said,
tapping the paper with his pen.
"We dug into Evelyn's background,
and found out that Evelyn is not even her real name.
Her real name is Sarah Jenkins,
and she is a professional grifter,
wanted in three different states,
for corporate espionage."
Arthur stared at the documents,
seeing massive offshore wire transfers,
dating back months.
"She was hired,
Mr. Vance,"
Miller stated bluntly,
"hired to eliminate you,
by someone who stands to gain a lot from your death."
"Who?"
Arthur demanded,
a sudden surge of anger replacing his grief.
"Who paid her to kill me?"
Miller sighed,
running a hand through his hair.
"The wire transfers trace back to a shell company,
owned by your company's board of directors,
specifically,
your Vice President,
Marcus Thorne."
Arthur froze,
the name hitting him like a physical blow to the stomach.
Marcus was his mentor,
his closest friend,
the man who had stood by him for over a decade.
"Marcus wanted the CEO position,"
Miller explained,
"and he knew the board would vote him in,
if you suddenly passed away from natural causes."
The betrayal was absolute,
a deep,
poisonous web of lies,
spun by the people Arthur trusted most.
"We are arresting Thorne right now,"
Miller added,
"but none of this would have been uncovered,
if that little boy hadn't stopped you."
Arthur closed his eyes,
May you like
thinking of little Leo,
waiting patiently in the lobby outside.
