Chapter 4: The Confession
Ethan’s posture shifted. The "perfect husband" mask didn't just slip; it dissolved. He set his glass down with a precise, clinical movement. The terror in his eyes was replaced by a cold, predatory arrogance.
"You really think a wiretap holds up?" he sneered, looking at Sarah. "You have no physical evidence. That cable was a localized failure. The woman in red was just a convenient scapegoat."
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"We don't need the cable," Sarah replied, nodding to the agents behind her. "We have the wire cutters. They were dusted for prints before you planted them near the winch. Your prints are all over the handles, Ethan. You were sloppy."
Ethan went pale. He looked at Claire, who was standing back, her face a mask of horrified realization. He dropped the act entirely. "You were supposed to be dead, Claire. Do you have any idea how much work it took to arrange that winch? You were a drain on the company’s liquidity. The baby was just the final nail in the coffin of my debt."
