Oblivious Wife Poisoned At Gala Shocked When Missing First Wife Buried Underground Turns Out Alive Destroying Wealthy Husbands Dynasty
CHAPTER 2
The detective's chilling words echoed through the cavernous marble dining room, instantly freezing the chaos into an terrifying, suffocating silence.
Adrian's arrogant demeanor completely vanished as he stared at the lead detective with wide, bloodshot eyes that radiated pure, unadulterated panic.
"Alive?" I choked out, clutching my throbbing throat as the residual surge of epinephrine vibrated violently through my veins. "How is that possible?"
"She was locked inside a subterranean concrete bunker built underneath the old garden shed, Mrs. Hawthorne," Detective Vance explained grimly, gesturing for his team to clear the room. "She is severely malnourished and dehydrated, but medical personnel are currently stabilizing her in the ambulance outside."
Margaret let out a sharp, hysterical shriek, dropping her glass of gin as two female SWAT officers pinned her manicured arms behind her back in heavy steel cuffs.
"This is an outrage! You have no right to barge into my home!" Margaret shrieked, her Christian Louboutin heels skidding across the spilled wine and broken glass. "Adrian, call our legal team immediately!"
"Shut up, Mother!" Adrian roared, his voice cracking as he violently thrashed against the iron grips of the federal agents holding him down against the mahogany table. "Evelyn, what did you do?! What did you tell them?!"
I stepped over the scattered divorce papers on the floor, wiping a streak of sweat and cold grease from my jaw as I stared directly into my husband's terrified face.
"I told them the truth, Adrian," I said softly, my voice raspy but ringing with an absolute, lethal clarity that made him flinch. "I told them you were a monster who thought money could bury your worst sins."
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Celeste tried to quietly slip out toward the terrace doors, but a tactical officer blocked her path, slapping cuffs onto her wrists while snatching the diamond tennis bracelet off her arm as evidence.
"Get them all into separate transport vans," Detective Vance ordered sternly, turning to look at me with a mixture of professional focus and genuine concern. "Mrs. Hawthorne, we need you to come to the precinct to make a formal statement and identify the victim."
