Chapter 4 - The Interrogation at Long Island
The medical facility in Long Island was an unmarked grey stone building surrounded by ten acres of private pine forest and a ten-foot electrified perimeter fence. To the outside world, it appeared to be an exclusive private rehabilitation clinic. In reality, it was where Sterling Enterprises handled its most sensitive corporate emergencies away from the prying eyes of the press and the NYPD.
Alexander walked down the quiet, sterile hallway of the basement wing, his leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the white linoleum floor.
Marcus unbolted a heavy steel door, and Alexander stepped inside.
The room was clinical and sparse. A single hospital bed sat in the center, equipped with heart monitors and IV drip stands. Sitting on the bed, her wrists handcuffed to the steel side rails, was Celeste.
She looked entirely stripped of her former elegance. Her auburn hair was greasy and matted, her green eyes sunken and bloodshot, her face pale as a sheet. She was wearing a rough grey hospital gown, her body shivering faintly from the residual effects of the poison.
When the door opened and she saw Alexander walk in—healthy, vibrant, and wearing a crisp three-piece suit—her jaw dropped in absolute disbelief.
"Alexander..." she gasped, her voice dry and crackling like dead leaves. "How... how are you..."
Alexander pulled a steel chair to the side of her bed, sat down, crossed his legs, and rested his hands on his knee. He stared at her in silence for a full thirty seconds, letting the suffocating weight of his presence fill the small room.
"You look tired, Celeste," Alexander said softly. "Or should I call you Miss Moreau?"
Celeste flinched as if he had slapped her across the face. The color drained from her lips. "You... you know."
"I know everything," Alexander replied, pulling out his tablet and laying it on her lap. "I know Victor Vance paid three million dollars into a Swiss bank account registered to your mother in Zurich. I know you’ve been feeding him internal financial reports from my desk for eighteen months. And I know you tried to murder me tonight so he could take over the Pacific Maritime bid."
Celeste closed her eyes, tears of frustration leaking down her bruised cheeks. "If you know everything... why am I not in a police station?"
Alexander leaned forward, his face inches from hers. "Because a police station is where small criminals go. You tried to murder Alexander Sterling. You don't get a trial, Celeste. You get an absolute erasure."
"Victor will kill you anyway!" Celeste hissed, her voice rising in a desperate, sharp spike. "You think I was his only asset?! He has board members in his pocket! He has people inside your own security detail! You’re a dead man walking, Alexander! The moment the Tokyo market opens on Monday, Vance Global will initiate a hostile takeover that will strip you of every share you own!"
Alexander didn't blink. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small digital recorder, placing it on the bedside table.
"Here is what is going to happen," Alexander said, his tone as cold and precise as a surgeon's scalpel. "You are going to speak into this microphone. You are going to detail every single communication you’ve had with Victor Vance over the last two years. You will provide the account numbers, the transfer receipts, and the encrypted email keys."
"And if I refuse?" Celeste sneered weakly.
"If you refuse," Alexander said, leaning back in his chair, "I will hand you over to the Swiss Federal Police for the murder of an intelligence officer in Geneva four years ago—a file I purchased from your former director two hours ago. You will spend the next forty years in a concrete cell beneath a mountain in Bern."
He paused, a dark, dangerous smile flickering across his lips.
"Or... you give me Vance. And I allow you to take your three million dollars, disappear to a country without an extradition treaty, and never show your face in North America or Europe again."
Celeste stared at the small black recorder on the table. She looked at her bruised wrists, then up into the cold, unyielding blue eyes of the man she had tried to slaughter.
May you like
She realized, with terrifying clarity, that she had never truly known Alexander Sterling. She had thought he was a naive billionaire blinded by her beauty. In reality, he was a titan who had simply allowed her to play in his world until she crossed a line she couldn't walk back from.
"Give me... a glass of water," Celeste whispered, her spirit breaking completely. "And I’ll tell you where the server files are buried."
