Chapter 4: The Collapse of an Empire
The room was dead silent. The only sound was the faint hum of the tablet speaker replaying Clara’s laughter from the recording.
Clara stared at the screen, her lips moving without sound. The mask had completely shattered. The high-society poise, the designer clothes, the calculated immunity she believed her wealth and marriage provided—it all dissolved into the pathetic panic of a cornered predator.
"It... it's a deepfake," Clara stammered, her voice cracking wildly. "Ethan, you know technology! You can fake video feeds these days! He hacked the system, he’s trying to frame me—"
"The cameras are hardwired into a decentralized blockchain ledger, Clara," Ethan said quietly, his steps slow and deliberate as he walked toward her. "Not even I can alter those files once they're written. Marcus pulled them straight from the encrypted vault at the main gate."
One of the police officers stepped forward, resting a hand calmly on the holster at his belt. "Mrs. Sterling, you're coming with us. We have enough evidence here for reckless endangerment, elder abuse, and premeditated conspiracy to commit property fraud."
"Ethan! You can't do this to me!" Clara shrieked, her facade completely gone as she lunged forward, trying to grab his arm. "We’ve been married for five years! Think of our standing! Think of the company!"
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Ethan stepped aside, letting her grasp empty air. He didn't flinch, nor did he show a single ounce of pity.
"I'm thinking of my mother," Ethan replied coldly. "And I'm thinking about how lucky I am that I didn't come home two minutes later, or I might have buried her instead of helping her up."
