Chapter 4: The Interrogation Room
The federal holding facility in lower Manhattan smelled of bleach and stale coffee. Arthur sat at a metal table in a windowless interrogation room, wearing a wrinkled, oversized orange jumpsuit that stripped him of every ounce of his manufactured dignity.
The heavy metal door clicked open. Agent Miller walked in, carrying a thick manila folder, followed by Arthur's high-priced defense attorney, Richard Sterling.
"Don't say a word, Sebastian," Sterling commanded immediately, pulling out a chair. "We are filing for immediate bail. This is an unlawful seizure of assets."
Miller didn't even look at the lawyer. He tossed the thick folder onto the metal table with a heavy thud.
"You can call him Arthur, Mr. Sterling. Since that's the name on his Russian birth certificate," Miller said, taking a seat opposite the fallen billionaire.
Sterling blinked, his arrogant posture faltering slightly. "My client is an American citizen—"
"Your client is an international fraudster who has spent the last decade running a high-yield Ponzi scheme through luxury real estate fronts," Miller interrupted, leaning forward. "And the woman he married—the American heiress he targeted to legitimize his portfolio—just handed us the Rosetta Stone of his entire criminal network."
Arthur glared at Miller, his jaw clenched so tight it trembled. "You have nothing. She is a hysterical, pregnant woman who stole my corporate laptop. Any evidence she provided is inadmissible due to marital privilege and illegal acquisition."
Miller actually laughed. It was a dry, scraping sound.
"Marital privilege only applies to legally recognized marriages, Arthur," Miller said smoothly. "Which brings us to your 'mistress.' We have Natalia Volkov in the next room. We pulled her fingerprints. Turns out, she isn't just your administrative assistant. She is your legal wife. You married her in St. Petersburg eight years ago. Which makes your marriage to your American heiress bigamy. Therefore, no marital privilege."
Arthur’s face drained of color, turning a sickly shade of gray.
"And as for illegal acquisition," Miller continued, leaning back and crossing his arms. "You were the one who forged her signature, making her the CEO and majority shareholder of your shell companies to insulate yourself from federal audits. You made her the boss, Arthur. Which means she had every legal right to access those servers, freeze those accounts, and voluntarily surrender the corporate ledgers to the FBI."
"She couldn't have done this alone," Arthur hissed, genuine panic finally bleeding into his voice. "She doesn't know how to encrypt offshore routing! Who is helping her?"
"That doesn't concern you," Miller said, standing up. "What concerns you is that Natalia is currently in the next room, negotiating a plea deal. She is offering to testify that you orchestrated the entire fraud network, in exchange for a reduced sentence in a white-collar facility."
"She would never betray me," Arthur snarled.
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"She already did, Arthur," Miller smiled. "She told us about the safety deposit box in Zurich an hour ago. There is no loyalty among thieves. Especially when the money runs out."
As Miller walked out of the room, leaving Arthur to drown in the horrifying reality of his situation, the illusion of the grand mastermind completely shattered. He had spent years meticulously building a trap for a wealthy heiress, only to realize too late that she had locked him inside it and swallowed the key.
