Chapter 5 - The Confrontation
Ten minutes later, the elevator doors opened directly into our penthouse foyer. Clara stepped out, her eyes red and puffy, looking purposefully disheveled in a plain sweater, a stark contrast to her usual designer clothes. Behind her, a cameraman and a reporter from the local news network stepped out, the camera lens already rolling.
"Elena!" Clara cried out dramatically, dropping to her knees right there in the foyer. "Please! I beg of you! My mother is in a holding cell, she’s sick, she can't survive jail! We've lost the house! We have nowhere to go! I know we were cruel to you, but please don't do this to your own family!"
The reporter stepped forward, holding out a microphone toward me. "Mrs. Cross, public opinion is deeply divided. Many feel that your response to your family's dynamic is overly harsh, using your husband’s billions to crush them. Do you have a statement?"
Daniel stepped in front of me, his physical presence instantly intimidating the reporter, but I gently tapped his shoulder, stepping out into the light. I looked directly into the camera lens.
"You want a statement? Fine," I said, my voice completely steady. "Clara, you can get off the floor. The acting is terrible."
Clara froze, her dramatic sobbing halting for a second before she forced out more tears. "Elena, how can you be so heartless?"
"Let's talk about heartless, Clara," I said, pulling out a flash drive from my pocket and handing it directly to the news reporter. "On that drive, you will find the original audio recordings from the warehouse security cameras on the night of the fire. The fire didn't destroy the off-site cloud backup."
Clara’s face went entirely blank. The fake tears dried up instantly.
"You see," I continued, addressing the reporter, "the audio captures my aunt Vivian explicitly telling the manager to chain the fire exits shut that afternoon because she didn't want the workers taking breaks. It also captures Clara—yes, you, Clara—calling your mother twenty minutes before the fire started, telling her that the main electrical fuse box was sparking and smoking. Do you want to know what your mother said on that recording?"
The reporter looked at the flash drive like it was pure gold. "What did she say?"
"She told Clara to leave it alone because the insurance policy on the inventory had just been doubled the week before," I revealed.
The cameraman adjusted his angle, focusing heavily on Clara’s face, which had turned a ghostly, horrifying shade of white.
"They didn't just leave me in there by accident," I said, tears finally welling in my eyes, not of sadness, but of pure anger. "They knew that building was a death trap, and they let it burn for an insurance payout. My scars aren't a symbol of my shame, Clara. They are the physical proof of your family’s greed."
The reporter turned to Clara, holding the microphone out. "Miss Clara, is this true? Did your mother intentionally ignore a fire hazard for insurance money?"
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Clara scrambled backward into the elevator, completely panicking. "Get away from me! Turn that camera off! Turn it off!" She repeatedly slammed her hand against the elevator button until the doors slid shut, cutting her off from us.
The reporter turned back to me, bowing her head slightly in deep respect. "Thank you, Mrs. Cross. This changes everything."
