Chapter 2 - THE PAPER TRAIL
The quiet inside the police interrogation room was a stark contrast to the chaos of the Vance estate. The fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead, casting a sterile white glow across the steel table where Rebecca sat.
Across from her sat Lead Detective Marcus Reed, a broad-shouldered man with tired eyes and a thick Manila folder resting between his forearms. On the table between them sat a glass of water and a voice recorder, its small red light blinking steadily.
“Miss Vance,” Detective Reed began, his tone respectful and cautious. “The paramedics checked your neck outside. The strangulation marks are severe enough to warrant felony aggravated assault charges against your father. Your sister is currently being processed for secondary battery.”
Rebecca took a slow sip of water, her throat burning as she swallowed. “The assault is only the surface, Detective.”
“I figured,” Reed said, opening the folder. “When three squads hit a six-million-dollar estate on a Tuesday night, it’s usually not just a domestic call. What happened in that house before we arrived?”
Rebecca leaned forward, placing her elbows calmly on the table. “Four years ago, my father’s commercial construction firm, Vance Development, took a fifteen-million-dollar loan from the state infrastructure fund to construct a regional transit center in West County. My brother Tyler was listed as the chief financial auditor.”
Reed nodded, jotting down a quick note. “I remember the project. It stalled eighteen months ago due to supply chain inflation.”
“That was the story they gave the press,” Rebecca said smoothly, her voice cool despite the bruising on her neck. “The truth is that my father and sister siphoned six million dollars out of that project fund. They used two million to buy that estate, one million to buy Madison’s gallery in SoHo, and three million to cover Tyler’s illegal offshore margin trading accounts.”
Detective Reed raised an eyebrow, laying his pen down. “That’s a heavy accusation, Miss Vance. You got proof?”
Rebecca reached down to the leather briefcase sitting beside her chair, unlocked the dual brass latches with a crisp click, and pulled out a sleek black flash drive alongside a binder of certified bank ledgers.
“I didn't just build my own forensic accounting firm to look wealthy, Detective,” she said, placing the drive on top of the folder. “I built it to track every dime my family stole from the state—and from my late mother’s trust.”
Reed looked at the binder, turning to the first page. His eyes widened slightly as he scanned the complex web of wire transfers, shell companies based in the Cayman Islands, and forged signatures bearing Tyler Vance’s name.
“You’re telling me you spent the last two years auditing your own family?” Reed asked, looking up in disbelief.
“I spent two years documenting my own survival,” Rebecca corrected firmly. “When I walked into that foyer tonight, I gave them one chance to turn themselves in. My father answered with his hands on my throat. Madison answered with her heel.”
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She stood up slowly, smoothing the wrinkles from her sweater dress, her posture erect and unyielding.
“File the assault charges, Detective. But make sure the state prosecutor opens that flash drive before sunrise. By noon tomorrow, the Vance family won't have enough money left to pay for their bail.”
