Chapter 11 - The Interrogation
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They didn't take me to the police immediately. Vanessa wanted the humiliation to be absolute. She had the guards lock me inside the small, windowless security office on the ground floor of the estate to wait for James to arrive.
I sat in a hard metal chair, trembling so violently my teeth rattled. The threat of child services echoed in my head like a death sentence. They were going to take Chloe. I had lost everything.
An hour later, the heavy metal door flew open.
James strode into the room. He looked like a dark, wrathful god, his tailored suit jacket flaring behind him, his eyes entirely black with fury. Vanessa followed closely on his heels, clutching a clipboard, looking smug and victorious.
“James, darling, I am so sorry you had to leave the office for this,” Vanessa cooed, touching his arm. “The security team caught her red-handed holding the Patek Philippe outside the vault. The police are waiting at the front gate for your authorization to arrest.”
James didn't look at her. He didn't look at the guards.
He walked slowly across the small room and stopped directly in front of my chair.
I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face. I was fully prepared for the disgust, for the inevitable conclusion that he had trusted the wrong person.
“Did you take the watch, Grace?” James asked. His voice wasn't a shout. It was a terrifyingly quiet, dangerous whisper.
“No,” I sobbed, shaking my head frantically. “James, I swear to you. I found it on the closet floor. I was going to put it back. I would never steal from you. Please, you have to believe me. Don't let them take Chloe.”
James stared down into my tear-streaked face for a long, agonizing second.
Then, he turned slowly around to face his Chief Operations Officer.
“Get the guards out of this room,” James commanded softly.
“James, they need to process the evidence—” Vanessa began.
“OUT!” James roared, his voice suddenly exploding with such violent, concussive force that the security guards physically flinched and scrambled out the door, pulling it shut behind them.
The small room was dead silent. Vanessa stood frozen, her smug smile finally slipping.
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“She was holding the watch, James,” Vanessa insisted, crossing her arms defensively. “She is a criminal.”
“Grace is not a criminal,” James said, taking a slow, predatory step toward Vanessa. “Grace is exactly what she appears to be. Honest. But you, Vanessa... you have become very sloppy.”
