Chapter 6 - Jessica’s Secret Ledger
Across the hall in Holding Cell B, Jessica sat on a hard wooden bench, her face buried in her hands. Her designer handbag had been confiscated, her phone was gone, and the harsh reality of her situation was finally crashing down around her.
The cell door unlocked with a heavy click.
A female federal investigator stepped inside, dropping a thick manila folder onto the small table in front of Jessica.
"Ms. Arden," the investigator said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Let's talk about your independent investments."
Jessica looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and panicked. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a designer. David took care of everything."
"David told us a very different story ten minutes ago," the investigator replied smoothly. "In fact, when we showed him your private financial records, he was quite surprised to learn that you had set up an offshore trust in the Cayman Islands under an alias—a trust designed to receive 100 percent of the liquidation proceeds from his company the moment his wife's estate cleared."
Jessica’s jaw tightened. She opened her mouth to deny it, but the investigator slid a printed bank statement across the table.
It showed a wire transfer of two hundred thousand dollars, routed from one of David’s corporate accounts to a private account registered under Jessica’s maiden name—dated three months ago.
"David didn't know about that transfer, did he?" the investigator asked softly. "You weren't just his mistress, Ms. Arden. You were draining his accounts while he was busy draining his wife's life. You planned to take the money and vanish to Europe before the police ever knocked on his door."
Jessica stared at the paper, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The facade of innocence shattered completely.
"He was stupid," Jessica spat out, her voice dripping with venom. "He thought he was so smart, playing the wealthy corporate executive. He was a puppet. I told him what to do every step of the way. If he hadn't botched the poisoning timeline, we would have been on a private jet by Tuesday!"
The investigator smiled faintly, tapping a small recording device resting on the corner of the table.
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"Thank you for that clarification, Ms. Arden," the investigator said, standing up and smoothing her jacket. "That confession will look wonderful as Exhibit A during your joint conspiracy trial."
Jessica’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she had just done. She lunged forward toward the table, but the heavy cell door had already slammed shut, locking her securely inside her own trap.
