Chapter 8 - The Interrogation of Julian Vance
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Three days later, inside the windowless interrogation suites at the Miami Federal Detention Center, Julian Vance sat sweating in an orange inmate jumpsuit.
His polished hair was disheveled, his hands shackled to the metal table.
Across from him sat Assistant United States Attorney Karen Miller and Marcus Cole.
“You have zero leverage, Mr. Vance,” Prosecutor Miller stated, tossing the fifty-page indictment onto the table. “Notary Hector Ramos has signed a full confession. The Nevis banking records have been decrypted. You are looking at a mandatory minimum sentence of eighteen years.”
Julian slumped forward, tears and sweat dripping onto his orange collar.
“I’ll sign the full forfeiture agreement,” Julian choked out in a broken rasp. “I’ll surrender the Brickell condo, the bank accounts, the vehicles... everything. Just ask the judge to recommend a minimum-security facility.”
“The forfeiture papers are already executed by court order, Julian,” Marcus Cole replied coldly. “You don't get to negotiate what you already lost.”
Marcus stood up, looking down at the defeated parasite.
“The woman you called a common cleaner is now the managing trustee of a multi-million-dollar estate,” Marcus added with quiet satisfaction. “And her children are sleeping in the penthouse of a man who built this city with his bare hands.”
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Julian buried his face in his cuffed hands, weeping in bitter, irreversible disgrace as marshals stepped in to escort him back to his concrete cell forever.
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