Bought by My stepbrother, the don

Chapter 124: Interrogation

Carmen

The message came at 7:12 in the morning.

I was still half asleep when my phone buzzed against the nightstand, and at first I almost ignored it. Nobody decent texted that early unless someone had died or the world was ending.

The message was short.

You are required to present yourself at Central Precinct regarding an active investigation involving a firearm registered under your name. Failure to comply may result in arrest.

Underneath it was a badge number and an address.

For a full minute, I stared at the screen trying to convince myself I was reading it wrong. But the words stayed the same no matter how many times I blinked at them.

A firearm registered under my name.

I actually laughed once under my breath because it sounded ridiculous.

I hadn’t done anything but they made it sound like I did.

I told Nico of course before I left and he simply agreed that I should go through with it and not give then a reason to go crazy.

But by the time I arrived at Central Precinct with my lawyer beside me, that certainty had started cracking around the edges.

The interrogation room looked exactly like every terrible cliché ever made about police stations.

Gray walls. Metal table.

Cheap fluorescent lights that made everybody look sick.

And two detectives staring at me like they already hated me.

Detective Graves looked like a bulldog in a wrinkled suit. Thick neck. Red face. Aggression practically dripping from him. Detective Moreno was quieter, calmer, which somehow made him worse. Graves looked like he’d punch through a wall.

Moreno looked like he’d enjoy watching someone else do it.

Neither of them offered me coffee but simply introduced themselves then began to speak.

Graves sat down across from me and immediately said, "You know why you’re here?"

I crossed one leg over the other carefully, forcing myself to stay calm.

"No."

He snorted like I’d insulted his intelligence.

"Three people got shot at the hospital with the bullets from your gun. We have you on camera, will you still deny it?."

The words hit hard enough to make my chest tighten.

But I kept my face neutral.

"And that has what to do with me?"

Moreno slid a folder across the table toward me.

Crime scene photos. Blood on hospital tile.

A woman collapsed near a desk. A doctor being wheeled away on a stretcher.

"What am I looking at?" I asked quietly.

"The bullets recovered match a Glock nineteen," Moreno said.

I frowned immediately. "That’s one of the most common guns in the country."

Graves leaned back in his chair. "Registered under your name."

I felt irritation spark instantly.

"I didn’t know they registered bullets with guns" something that was impossible they were just fishing looking to hook me.

Moreno folded his hands together. "Forensics found gunshot residue."

"From my gun? That’s impossible."

"Is it?"

"Yes," I snapped. "Because I haven’t fired my weapon in weeks." I snapped as I slowly felt annoyance creep onto my skin.

The two detectives exchanged a look.

Not confusion. Not surprise. Satisfaction. Like they’d been waiting for me to say exactly that.

My lawyer finally spoke. "Unless my client is being formally charged, I suggest we stop with the theatrics and move toward actual questions."

Graves ignored him completely.

"Where were you between nine and midnight?"

"At dinner."

"With who?"

"My friends."

"Names."

"My client doesn’t need to—"

"Names," Graves repeated louder.

I looked him dead in the eye.

"Vanessa Delgado."

The shift in the room was immediate.

Tiny.

But noticeable.

Moreno reached for another folder.

"Vanessa Delgado," he repeated calmly.

Graves smirked.

"It becomes our business if she helped cover up attempted murder."

Something hot flashed through my chest.

"That’s enough," my lawyer cut in sharply. ƒrēewebnovel.com

But Graves kept going like he couldn’t help himself.

"You rich people always think you’re untouchable."

I stared at him.

"You dragged me down here because bullets matched a gun type I legally own?"

Moreno slid a printed image toward me.

Security footage.

Blurry as hell.

A woman entering a hospital parking garage wearing dark clothes.

Same height as me.

Same build.

My stomach twisted.

"That could literally be anybody."

"Could be," Moreno said. "Could also be you."

"It isn’t."

Graves leaned forward. "You expect us to believe that?"

"Yes."

The room went quiet for a second.

Then Graves laughed.

Not amused.

Mocking.

"Oh, she’s confident."

I folded my arms tightly.

"Because I didn’t shoot anyone."

Moreno tilted his head slightly, studying me.

"Innocent people usually come in nervous."

"I’m not nervous."

"You should be."

There was something deeply unsettling about how calm he stayed while Graves played attack dog beside him.

Good cop.

Bad cop.

Except neither of them were actually good.

Graves slapped a file onto the table hard enough to make me jump slightly.

"Three people are dead with three in critical condition."

"And I had nothing to do with it."

"Your firearm says otherwise."

"My firearm has been locked in my safe."

"Anybody else have access?"

"No."

"Vanessa?"

"No."

"Nico?"

My eyes narrowed instantly.

"Leave Nico out of this."

There it was.

The first real crack in my composure.

Graves saw it immediately.

"Nico ," he said slowly. "Interesting man,"

I felt my jaw tighten.

"She has nothing to do with this."

"He owns several businesses, doesn’t he?"

My lawyer sighed beside me. "Detective—"

"Restaurants. Warehouses. Investment properties." Graves shrugged. "Would be a shame if investigators started digging around."

There it was.

Not subtle anymore.

A threat.

Cold anger spread through me.

"You’re threatening him?"

Moreno answered before Graves could.

"No one’s threatening anyone."

"You just implied investigations into her businesses."

"Standard procedure," he said smoothly.

"Bullshit."

Graves leaned closer across the table.

"If your people are clean, why worry?"

My pulse was starting to pound now.

Not fear.

Rage.

"You don’t have a case," I said flatly.

His face darkened instantly.

"We have three victims and your damn gun."

"You have circumstantial evidence."

"We have enough."

"No," I said, voice sharpening. "You have pressure from a shooting at a hospital and you’re trying to pin it on the easiest target."

Moreno tapped his fingers lightly against the table.

"A black SUV connected to Castilo Holdings was seen leaving the parking structure."

I frowned.

"What?"

"Interesting reaction," he murmured.

"Because I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Maybe Vanessa does."

And just like that, my calm finally started slipping.

"Vanessa was with me."

"For the entire night?"

"Yes."

"Can anyone verify that?"

I hesitated.

Big mistake.

Graves practically smiled.

"There it is."

"Oh my God," I muttered, rubbing a hand across my face. "You people already decided I’m guilty."

Nobody denied it.

That was the worst part.

Moreno opened another folder and slid paperwork toward me.

Warrants.

Requests for financial records.

Property searches.

I stared at the pages in disbelief.

"This is harassment."

"It’s homicide. Some of those victims are dead," Graves said coldly.

"You’re trying to pressure me into confessing."

"We’re giving you an opportunity."

"To do what? Lie?"

"To protect the people around you."

That did it.

Something inside me snapped hard enough I actually heard my chair scrape loudly against the floor as I stood.

"You don’t get to threaten me because your investigation sucks."

"Sit down," Graves barked.

"No."

The room instantly became tenser.

My lawyer stood too now, clearly preparing for disaster.

Graves planted both hands on the table.

"You are in serious trouble."

"Then charge me."

Silence.

Just for a second.

But I saw it.

The hesitation.

And suddenly I knew.

They didn’t have enough.

Not really.

Not yet.

Which meant this entire performance was about breaking me before they found actual proof.

The realization hit me like gasoline on fire.

"You dragged me in here for three hours trying to bully me into a confession because you can’t solve your own damn case."

Graves slammed his palm against the metal table so hard the sound echoed.

"Watch your mouth."

"No, you watch yours." My voice rose before I could stop it. "You sit there threatening innocent people because it’s easier than admitting you don’t know who did this."

Moreno finally lost a little of his calm expression.

"You should be careful."

"And you should get better evidence." I laughed sharply. "...or fake it better!"

"You think I’d confess to attempted murder to protect tax records?"

Graves stepped closer.

"You’re not nearly as smart as you think you are."

"And you’re not nearly as intimidating as you think you are."

My lawyer touched my arm quietly. "Carmen—"

"No," I snapped without looking away from Graves. "I’m done being polite."

The room went dead silent.

Every bit of control I’d walked in with was gone now.

My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

My hands were shaking.

But I couldn’t stop.

"You already decided I’m guilty before I sat down. You don’t care about evidence. You care about closing the case fast enough to save your reputations."

"Nobody’s framing you," Moreno said coldly.

"Really? Because threatening me and sounds a hell of a lot like coercion."

Graves scoffed.

"You rich girls always crack eventually."

I stared at him in disbelief.

Then anger exploded so hard it burned straight through me.

"Do not reduce me to some spoiled woman because your ego can’t handle being wrong."

I leaned forward slightly, my voice shaking with fury.

"If you ever drag Vanessa or Nico into this again without real evidence, I will bury this department in lawsuits so deep neither of you will ever recover professionally."

Graves smiled again, but this time it looked uglier.

"The next time you come here you’ll be locked up,"

I grabbed my bag off the floor.

And for the first time since walking into that room, Graves stopped looking smug as I walked out to leave.

"....They’re building a case against you and if I’m right, someone is funding it," my lawyer said and I sighed without turning around to look at him.

"I know!" realizing that maybe peaceful reconciliation ad quiet acceptance would end up with me in jail.