Chapter 10 - The Interrogation Room Rematch
Back at the downtown Houston police precinct, Grant Calloway sat alone in Interrogation Room B, waiting for his high-priced corporate defense attorney to arrive from downtown.
The door clicked open, but it wasn't his attorney who stepped inside the room.
It was Evelyn Calloway.
She walked slowly, deliberately toward the center table, her eyes completely devoid of the warmth and maternal love she had carried for her son over the past thirty years.
Grant looked up, his face pale and drawn, his designer suit wrinkled from sleeping on a hard holding cell bench.
“Mom? Thank God,” Grant stammered, standing up quickly.
“You have to talk to these cops! They’re insane! They’re accusing me of kidnapping my own daughter and digging up old family property based on some crazy conspiracy theory—!”
“Sit down, Grant,” Evelyn commanded, her voice cutting through the small room with the force of a loaded weapon.
Grant froze, staring at her unblinking eyes before slowly sinking back down into his chair.
“You read the journal, didn't you?” Evelyn asked quietly, leaning her palms against the steel table.
Grant swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he looked away toward the mirrored glass wall.
“I don't know what you’re talking about,” Grant muttered defensively, though his voice lacked any real conviction.
“I found the hidden safe behind the bookshelf at the lake house six months ago, Grant,” Evelyn stated, her voice steady and chillingly calm.
“I read every single page of Thomas’s journal.”
“I know that Richard wasn't your biological father... and I know that your uncle Thomas was murdered and buried under the oak tree by the man you spent your entire life idolizing.”
Grant’s face twisted into an ugly, desperate mask of rage.
“So what if I found it?!” Grant shouted, slamming his fist onto the table.
“That was thirty years ago! Richard—my father—protected us! He built this entire life for us!”
“And Thomas was a weak, pathetic loser who wanted to give away our family fortune to charity!”
“Is that why you tried to lock Maisie away in that sub-basement?” Evelyn asked, her voice cracking with deep, personal betrayal.
“Because you found out you weren't the true heir... and you thought if you controlled the bloodline and the trust funds, you could control the Calloway legacy?”
Grant let out a sharp, hysterical laugh that sounded more like a sob.
“Maisie wasn't part of the plan,” Grant hissed through gritted teeth.
“Vanessa found out about the trust fund fraud three weeks ago... she started blackmailing me, demanding fifty percent of the offshore accounts to keep her mouth shut.”
“She threatened to take Maisie and run to Europe if I didn't sign over the deeds to the River Oaks estate.”
“So you locked your daughter in a flooded room to punish Vanessa?” Evelyn demanded in disbelief.
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“I locked her in that room because Vanessa told me she was taking her away forever!” Grant yelled, his composure completely shattering into a torrent of furious tears.
“If I couldn't have my daughter, nobody was going to have her!”
