Chapter 3 - Unraveling the Web
The local police precinct interrogation room smelled like decades of stale coffee and industrial floor wax. A single overhead fluorescent light hummed with an irritating, high-pitched frequency, casting long, harsh shadows across the gray metal table.
Julian sat on the other side of the aluminum barrier, wearing a standard-issue orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on his frame. The cocky, arrogant grin he had worn at the breakfast table was entirely gone, replaced by a sullen, dark glare that burned holes into the tabletop. His wrists were free of handcuffs inside the room, but he kept them folded tightly across his chest as if trying to hold himself together.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, sliding a thick manila folder onto the center of the table.
Julian didn't look up immediately. When he finally did, his lips curled into a bitter, venomous sneer.
"Happy now, El?" he spat out, his voice dripping with venom. "You finally got your big spotlight. You dragged your own brother down in front of the entire town just to feed your pathetic savior complex."
I pulled out the metal chair opposite him, sat down, and folded my hands neatly on the table. I didn't match his anger. Emotion was a luxury criminals couldn't afford around me, and anger was a weapon Julian no longer had the authority to wield.
"This isn't about my ego, Julian," I said evenly. "This is about eighty-eight thousand dollars missing from Mom's secondary investment account, a forged deed transfer on her lake cabin, and physical trauma that required emergency medical intervention at the county hospital this morning."
"It was her money!" Julian barked, slamming his palm against the metal table with a dull thud. "We earned it! Do you have any idea what it’s like living in this dead-end town, watching people with half our intelligence succeed while we scraped by? We took care of her! We cooked her meals! We managed the house!"
"By locking her in her room? By tying her wrists with a clothesline whenever she asked questions about her own bank statements?" I leaned forward, my eyes locking onto his. "Is that what you call caregiving, Julian?"
He flinched, his eyes darting away for a split second before hardening again. "She’s old! Her mind wanders! She falls down, she bruises herself, she imagines things! Any jury in this county is going to look at a confused old woman's ramblings and look at our notarized documents, and they're going to see a pair of devoted children dealing with a difficult senior."
"Notaries die, Julian," I said softly.
Julian’s brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"The notary stamp on your power of attorney document belongs to a woman named Clara Higgins. She passed away in November of 2024. Your document was dated March of 2025. Unless Clara was notarizing documents from the afterlife, your paperwork is a very sloppy, very illegal forgery."
Julian’s breath hitched. The color drained from his face entirely, leaving him looking hollow and gray under the fluorescent lights. For the first time, he realized the sheer scale of the digital trail he had left behind. He hadn't just bullied an elderly woman; he had committed federal-level interstate wire fraud and document falsification, and he had done it against a prosecutor whose entire career was built on dismantling white-collar predators.
"Chloe... Chloe handled the paperwork," Julian stammered, his bravado instantly evaporating into cowardice as he tried to throw his wife under the bus. "She’s the one who found the templates online! I just signed what she gave me! I didn't know!"
"Oh, you knew," I said, opening the folder to reveal a series of printed text messages recovered from his phone. I slid them across the table.
‘Old lady is asking about the lake house again. Make sure the new will is ready before she talks to the bank manager on Tuesday.’
‘Use the heavy cord if she tries to get out of bed. She’s getting too stubborn.’
Julian stared down at the glowing screen of the evidence tablet resting beside the folder. His hands began to tremble. The tough-guy act was completely shattered, replaced by the pathetic, sniveling reality of a man who had finally hit the bottom of his own self-made pit.
"Please, Elena," Julian whispered, his voice cracking as he looked up at me with watery, desperate eyes. "We're family. We grew up in this house. You can't... you can't throw me away for this. Let's make a deal. I'll plead guilty to a lesser misdemeanor, we'll return the money, just... don't let them send me to a maximum-security prison."
I stood up, pushing my chair back with a soft scrape against the floor. I buttoned my blazer, picked up my folder, and looked down at my brother one final time.
May you like
"You didn't make a deal with Mom when she begged you to stop, Julian," I said quietly. "And you won't be making one with me."
I turned and walked toward the door, leaving him alone in the dark, humming silence of the interrogation room.
