Chapter 86 - Victoria’s Dying Card
The federal detention facility at Metropolitan Correctional Center was locked down under maximum security protocols.
In the subterranean interrogation cell, Victoria Sterling sat behind reinforced plexiglass, her once-immaculate platinum hair greasy and unwashed, her designer clothes replaced by the coarse orange jumpsuit of a high-risk inmate.
Yet, despite her handcuffs and the armed marshals flanking the heavy steel door, her eyes held the same venomous, arrogant gleam that had terrorized Ethan for years.
The door opened. It wasn't Ethan who entered.
It was Marcus.
Marcus set a thick manila folder on the metal table, sat down on the bolted aluminum stool, and leaned back, his cold blue eyes locking onto the fallen matriarch.
"Where is Ethan?" Victoria sneered, her voice raspy from hours of screaming at prison guards. "Is the little prince too cowardly to face his mother-in-law? Or is he too busy planning a funeral for that pathetic, low-class girl he married?"
Marcus didn't blink. He opened the folder, revealing high-resolution crime scene photographs of Dr. Julian Vance lying dead in the hospital corridor, alongside documents detailing the offshore accounts of the Sovereign Council.
Victoria’s smirk faded slightly, her eyes flickering across the photos of Vance’s corpse.
"Vance is dead," Marcus said flatly. "The hit squad sent to St. Jude’s was wiped out. Olivia is in stable condition. And Ethan’s daughter was born an hour ago. Healthy. Strong. A true Sterling heir."
Victoria’s hands clenched into tight fists against the cold steel of the table, the chains rattling violently. "Lies! Julian had two dozen men! You can't stop the Council! You are nothing but an overpaid guard dog!"
"You're right about one thing, Victoria," Marcus said softly, leaning forward until his face was inches from the plexiglass. "You were never the mastermind. You were Charles's puppet. He used you like an old rag to scrub the floor, and when you were dirty enough, he threw you in this cage to rot."
Victoria laughed, a shrill, hysterical sound that bounced off the cinderblock walls. "You think Charles controls me? You fool! Charles is a dying old relic hiding in a hole in Queens! He thinks he has the master key to the Erebus servers, but he doesn't know what I did before the marshals arrested me in that courtroom!"
Marcus narrowed his eyes, catching the sudden slip. "What did you do, Victoria?"
"I transferred the decryption algorithm to the Council's chief liquidator," Victoria hissed, her face contorting with triumphant malice. "The Council doesn't want the Sterling fortune anymore. They know the Department of Justice is closing in. They're triggering the scorched-earth protocol at dawn! Every asset, every offshore trust, every real estate holding under the Sterling name is set to be wiped clean through a cascading liquidation script at 6:00 AM!"
She slammed her cuffed hands against the glass. "Ethan will have his pathetic wife, and he will have his bastard child, but he will be a pauper! He will stand on the streets of Manhattan without a single penny, begging for scraps like the gutter-rat his father always knew he was!"
Marcus stood up slowly, closing the manila folder. "Thank you, Victoria."
She blinked, confused by his calm demeanor. "For what?"
"For telling me where Charles is hiding," Marcus said, tapping his tactical earbud. "Ethan, did you copy that? Queens. And the liquidation script triggers at dawn."
From the earbud, Ethan’s voice answered, freezing Victoria's blood where she sat: *"I copied. Leave her to rot with the marshals. Marcus... tell Thorne to administer the antigen. We move on Queens right now."*
May you like
Victoria screamed, lunging at the plexiglass as Marcus turned his back on her, walking out of the cell as the heavy steel doors slammed shut, sealing her in darkness forever.
***
