He thinks he is the only one in this relationship capable of burning the world down to save the other.
He is about to find out how wrong he is.
CHAPTER 26
MALCOLM
The metal chair is bolted to the concrete floor.
I have been sitting in it for four hours. The room smells like stale coffee, cheap floor wax, and the nervous sweat of the three different detectives who have walked in and out of the door since I arrived. They took my tie, my belt, and my shoelaces, standard protocol to prevent a suspect from harming themselves in custody.
They left the handcuffs on.
I look at the heavy steel cuffs securing my wrists to the metal ring welded to the table. The edges are biting into my skin, leaving raw, red marks against my pulse points.
I don't feel the pain. I am focused entirely on the clock mounted on the wall above the two-way mirror.
6:14 AM.
The door opens.
Detective Miller walks in. He is the same man who arrested me in the penthouse. He looks worse now than he did then. His cheap suit is wrinkled, and he is holding a thick file folder that he drops onto the metal table with an aggressive, theatrical slap.
My defense attorney, a man named Sterling who charges a thousand dollars an hour to look perpetually bored, walks inright behind him. Sterling sits down in the chair next to me, opening his leather briefcase.
"Mr. Vance," Detective Miller says, pulling out the chair opposite me. He sits down heavily, leaning forward. "It’s been a long night. We’ve processed the initial reports from the fire investigators at the estate."
I don't say anything. I just look at him.
"The fire started in the east wing," Miller continues, opening the file. "Accelerant was used. It was a professional job. The security cameras covering that specific corridor were disabled exactly twelve minutes before the first alarm triggered."
"My client has already stated he was in the main ballroom during the entirety of the event," Sterling interjects smoothly, not looking up from his legal pad. "And prior to that, he was in a meeting in the library with the board of directors. You have fifty witnesses who can corroborate his presence."
"We have a witness who says he saw Mr. Vance leave the library and head toward the east wing," Miller counters, looking directly at me.
"Let me guess," I say, my voice completely flat. "The witness is on the payroll of Vance Security."
Miller’s jaw tightens. "The witness is a private contractor hired for the event."
"He is a contractor hired by my father," I correct him. "Preston paid him to lie. Just as he paid you to fast-track this arrest warrant without probable cause."
"Malcolm," Sterling warns quietly, touching my arm.
I ignore him. I lean forward as far as the handcuffs will allow, closing the physical distance between myself and the detective.
"You are operating on a fabricated timeline, Detective," I say, my voice dropping to a low, lethal register. "You know the cameras were disabled. You know the accelerant implies premeditation. And you know that I did not leave the ballroom after my meeting with the board. You are sitting in this room because Preston Vance told the police commissioner to put me here."
Miller flushes, the accusation hitting a nerve. He knows the arrest is weak. He knows a defense attorney will tear the contractor’s testimony apart in front of a judge. But he also knows he can't disobey orders from the top.
"We have motive," Miller says, tapping the file. "Multiple witnesses heard your fiancée threaten to burn the house down at a family dinner two weeks ago. And tonight, you threatened your father in the library. You told him you would burn his empire to the ground."
"I was speaking metaphorically about corporate structure," I reply. "Audrey was speaking metaphorically about the toxic environment of the family."
"It’s a hell of a coincidence, Mr. Vance."
"It is not a coincidence. It is a setup." I lean back in the metal chair, the chains rattling against the table. "My father set his own house on fire to frame me, because he knew I was preparing to resign from the company."
Miller frowns, genuinely thrown by the statement. "You resigned?"
