Chapter 8 - THE SHADOW OF THE SYNDICATE
The door to the interrogation room swung open again.
A junior officer stuck his head inside. "Detective Miller... Mr. Sterling’s legal team has finalized his federal bail conditions. But he’s requesting five minutes in the private interview room with Miss Vance before he is processed."
"Absolutely not," Marcus Thorne snapped instantly, standing up. "My client will not speak to the man who stole her child without federal prosecutors present."
"It's fine, Marcus," Eleanor said softly. She stood up, folding the wool blanket neatly and placing it on the back of her chair. Her eyes were clear, cold, and devoid of fear.
"Eleanor, he’s a strategist," Thorne warned, grabbing her arm gently. "He manipulated an entire medical board to take your son. He will manipulate you."
"He has my son," Eleanor corrected flatly, her voice trembling with restrained fury. "And I want to look him in the eye before this war begins."
Two minutes later, Eleanor was escorted down a dim, concrete-walled corridor into a small, windowless interview room.
Julian Sterling sat at a wooden table. He was no longer wearing his charcoal suit jacket; his grey dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his dark tie loosened. Yet, despite being under federal indictment, he sat with the relaxed, effortless posture of a man sitting in his private corner office overlooking Central Park.
He looked up as Eleanor stepped inside, the heavy steel door slamming shut behind her with a metallic clack.
"Sit down, Eleanor," Julian said smoothly.
Eleanor didn't sit. She walked straight up to the edge of the wooden table, slamming her hands onto the polished surface, leaning down until her face was inches from his.
"Where is Leo?" she demanded, her voice a low, terrifying growl.
"He is at my private estate in Greenwich," Julian replied calmly, not flinching from her intensity. "Under twenty-four-hour private security, cared for by his personal physician and nanny. He is safe, fed, and sleeping."
"He belongs with me," Eleanor spat.
"Physically? Yes," Julian agreed, taking a slow, measured breath. "Legally? Within forty-eight hours, the family court will grant you temporary emergency custody based on the DNA match and my confession."
Eleanor blinked, caught off guard by his admission. "Then why did you take him from me seven years ago?! Why put me through seven years of hell?!"
Julian looked at her, his dark eyes hollow, void of guilt or emotion.
"Because seven years ago, Eleanor," Julian whispered, leaning forward slightly, "you were a broke, grieving art restorer with seventy dollars in your bank account and three hundred thousand dollars in debt. If I had left Leo with you, Victoria’s father—Jonathan Vance—would have bought your debt, crushed your custody rights in a corrupt county court, and raised that boy to be a hollow, spoiled, manipulative monster like his daughter."
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He stood up slowly, his tall frame looming over her, though he made no hostile movement.
"I took him to build an impenetrable armor around him," Julian said softly. "I gave him an unshakeable trust fund, an elite education, and a legal pedigree that no court in this country can dismantle. And tonight... I handed the keys of that armor back to you."
