Chapter 12: The Interrogation
The study in the Thorne penthouse was a dark, masculine room lined with leather-bound books and heavy mahogany furniture. It was designed to be intimidating.
Maria sat trembling in a heavy leather chair in the center of the room. She was still wearing her maid’s uniform, though it was wrinkled from spending the night in a holding room. Tears streamed down her face, ruining her makeup.
Marcus stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the city, his back to the girl. The silence in the room was suffocating. Miller stood guard by the door.
“Mr. Thorne, please,” Maria sobbed, twisting her hands in her lap. “I don’t know anything about a crib! I swear to God! I was locked up all night!”
Marcus didn’t turn around. “Where did you get the Cartier bracelet, Maria?”
Maria choked on a sob. “A woman… she gave it to me. And ten thousand dollars in cash.”
“Isabella Rossi.”
“Yes! Yes, she told me to just keep an eye on Mrs. Thorne. To tell her when you left the house, when she was alone. I didn’t know what she was going to do! I swear, she just said she wanted to know if Mrs. Thorne was… was cheating on you! I thought I was helping!”
Marcus finally turned around. His eyes were dead. “You thought you were helping my marriage by selling my pregnant wife’s security schedule to a sociopath?”
Maria flinched, curling into herself. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“Sorry doesn’t explain how someone bypassed three biometric locks last night while you were in a holding cell,” Marcus said, walking slowly toward her. “Isabella is broke. I seized her family’s assets. She couldn’t afford the technology required to hack my penthouse. So, who is she working with?”
Maria shook her head frantically. “I don’t know!”
Marcus slammed his hands down on the armrests of her chair, leaning in until he was inches from her face. “Who gave her the cameras, Maria? Who disabled the alarms?”
“I don’t know his name!” Maria shrieked, terrified. “I only saw him once! Isabella met him in a car down in the parking garage! She handed me a flash drive and told me to plug it into the main router in your server room!”
Marcus froze. A flash drive in the server room. That would give an external hacker complete backdoor access to the penthouse’s entire smart-home system—the locks, the cameras, the alarms.
“Who was in the car, Maria?” Marcus asked, his voice suddenly dropping to a whisper.
“A man,” Maria cried. “I couldn't see his face. But he… he had these eyes. Dark. Completely black. Like there was nothing behind them. And he wore a heavy silver ring on his thumb with a crest on it.”
All the air left Marcus’s lungs.
He staggered back a step, releasing the chair. The rage that had been boiling in his veins was instantly extinguished by a wave of pure, absolute dread.
Miller stepped forward, noticing his boss’s reaction. “Sir? Do you know him?”
Marcus stared at the floor, the blood roaring in his ears. The silver ring with the crest. The pitch-black eyes. It wasn't possible. He had exiled him a decade ago. He had ruined his reputation, stripped him of his shares, and banished him to Europe with nothing but the clothes on his back.
“It’s Silas,” Marcus whispered, the name tasting like ash in his mouth.
Miller’s eyes widened. Even the security team had heard the dark legends of Silas Thorne, the illegitimate half-brother. The phantom of the Thorne family.
May you like
Marcus looked toward the door that led out to the hallway, toward the bedroom where his wife was trapped.
Isabella Rossi wasn't the mastermind. She was just a pawn. Marcus wasn't fighting a jealous socialite anymore. He was at war with a ghost who wanted nothing less than to end the Thorne bloodline entirely.
