Chapter 4 - THE INTERROGATION OF BRAD RAINERIn the subterranean holding facility beneath the federal courthouse, the air smelled of damp concrete, rust, and old ozone.
Brad Rainer sat handcuffed to a bolted metal table in an interrogation room that featured a massive two-way mirror on the far wall. His designer sweater was stained with mud and dried lake water, his hair matted, his eyes bloodshot from hours of crying and panic.
The heavy steel door swung open.
Claire walked into the room. She wasn't wearing her work apron or her thrift-store clothes anymore. She wore a sharp, tailored charcoal pantsuit, her dark-blond hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, her amber-flecked eyes burning with an unshakable, terrifying calm.
Brad blinked, scrambling backward in his chair until the metal legs screeched against the concrete floor.
"Claire?" he croaked, his voice cracking like a terrified child's. "Claire, thank God! Get me out of here! Your uncle—he’s insane, he’s treating us like terrorists! Tell them it was just a joke! It was a prank for the channel! The views were going viral, Claire, you understand—"
Claire didn't answer immediately. She walked slowly around the metal table, her heels clicking against the floor like a countdown clock, and sat down directly across from him.
She reached into her leather briefcase, pulled out a pristine, unblemished smartphone, and placed it gently on the table between them.
"Look at the screen, Brad," she said softly.
Brad swallowed hard, his eyes darting down to the phone. The screen was unlocked, displaying the live-stream dashboard of his personal account. The subscriber count was plummeting by the tens of thousands every second. Below the live feed, a public statement issued by Carver-Rainer Holdings was broadcasting across every major news network worldwide, detailing the exact video footage of what he, Kyle, and Justin had done at Blackwood Lake.
The comments section was a tidal wave of public fury, doxxing data, and absolute revulsion.
"My... my channel," Brad whispered, tears spilling over his lower eyelids. "My followers... they're all turning on me. My sponsors canceled my contracts an hour ago. I'm ruined."
"You were never anything, Brad," Claire said, her voice entirely devoid of emotion. "You were an empty shell riding on your father’s stolen money and a manufactured persona built on cruelty."
"Please," Brad sobbed, pressing his cuffed hands together in a desperate plea. "We have a life together! We’re married! Think of the baby!"
Claire’s expression didn't soften by a fraction of a millimeter.
"The moment you watched your brothers shove my head under that freezing water while I was carrying your child, you ceased to be my husband," Claire said, leaning forward so her voice dropped into a lethal whisper. "You became a defendant. And right now, the district attorney is adding attempted fetal homicide and conspiracy to your list of charges."
"No... no, you can't do that!" Brad shrieked, slamming his fists onto the table. "You can't put me away for twenty years! I'm Brad Harrison! I'm—"
The door opened behind Claire.
May you like
Two federal marshals stepped in, grabbing Brad by the shoulders and hauling him out of his chair with practiced efficiency.
"Your trial starts next month, Brad," Claire said quietly as they dragged him toward the heavy steel exit. "Try to smile for the cameras. I hear the lighting in federal prison is wonderful."
