Chapter 3 - The Interrogation
By noon the following day, Gabriel Vale was sitting upright in an armchair in the center of his massive private study.
Though his left arm was suspended in a dark silk sling, his fever had completely broken. Color had returned to his face, his dark eyes burning with the cold, lethal intelligence that had made him the most feared man on the East Coast.
Sadie sat on a velvet sofa near the window, dressed in a comfortable grey cashmere sweater and jeans that Mrs. Gable had brought her. She felt out of place, but Gabriel had explicitly demanded her presence.
In the center of the mahogany-paneled room, bound securely to a heavy iron chair, was Dr. Vance.
The fifty-two-year-old surgeon was a mess. His expensive suit was torn, his nose was broken, and tears streamed down his bruised cheeks as he stared at Gabriel in absolute terror.
"Gabriel! Please!" Dr. Vance wept, his voice high and frantic. "I didn't have a choice! They threatened my daughter! They said they would kill her if I didn't make sure you died on the table!"
Gabriel didn't react. He casually took a sip of black coffee from a porcelain cup held in his right hand.
"Who paid you, Vance?" Gabriel asked, his voice smooth, soft, and entirely devoid of emotion—which made it a thousand times more terrifying.
"I... I don't know his real name!" Vance stammered out frantically. "He called himself the Broker! He contacted me two days before you were shot! He gave me fifty thousand dollars in cash as a deposit and supplied the specialized thread!"
Sadie stepped forward from the window, her brow furrowing. "The thread came from him?"
Vance snapped his head toward Sadie, recognizing her from the medical reports. "Yes! Yes! He gave me three spools of black thread! He told me it was an experimental, slow-acting chemical agent coated in synthetic toxin! He said if I used it during your deep muscle closure, the infection would look entirely natural! No autopsy or toxicology report would ever flag it because it mimics aggressive staph necrosis!"
Gabriel set his coffee cup down on the glass table with a quiet clink.
"A chemical assassin," Gabriel murmured softly, his gray-green eyes drifting toward Sadie. "He knew standard poisons would be detected by my food tasters and blood screeners. So he put the poison inside the thread."
"Who hired the Broker, Vance?" Marcus growled, stepping up behind the chair and grabbing Vance by his hairline, pulling his head back sharply.
"I don't know! I swear to God I don't know!" Vance shrieked, tears and blood dripping down his chin. "But... but he mentioned a name during our last phone call! He said... he said the 'West Coast Syndicate' was taking over Port Alder by the end of the month! He said the Vale empire was falling!"
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits.
The West Coast Syndicate. Dominic Thorne.
Dominic Thorne was a rival crime boss who had been trying to gain control of Port Alder’s shipping terminals for five years. But Thorne was a blunt instrument—a brute who preferred pipe bombs and drive-by shootings. He didn't have the sophistication to manufacture chemical-coated industrial suture thread.
"Thorne has a backer," Gabriel murmured, leaning back in his chair. "Someone inside my own organization who knows how I operate. Someone who supplied Thorne with my security schedule the night I was shot."
Gabriel turned his gaze onto Sadie. "Sadie."
Sadie flinched slightly at the sudden sound of her name. "Yes, Mr. Vale?"
"You identified the thread by its twist and lubricant," Gabriel said, staring at her with intense fascination. "Can you identify where that specific industrial thread was manufactured?"
Sadie took a deep breath, thinking back to the hours she had spent sorting inventory in her mother’s workshop.
"Industrial nylon thread with a left-hand triple twist and petroleum flame retardant isn't common," Sadie explained, her voice steady and confident. "Only three factories in the United States produce that specific grade. Two are in Ohio, catering to automotive manufacturing. But the third... the third is right here in New Jersey. The Alder Textile Mill near the docks."
Gabriel’s lips curved into a slow, lethal smile.
The Alder Textile Mill was a commercial property owned by one of Gabriel’s legitimate subsidiaries. A property managed directly by his financial director, Julian Vance—who just so happened to be Dr. Vance's cousin.
The entire web of betrayal suddenly unraveled in a single second.
Gabriel looked up at Marcus. "Bring Julian Vance to the library."
Ten minutes later, Julian Vance—a slick, thirty-five-year-old corporate executive in a five-thousand-dollar suit—was escorted into the study by two armed guards.
Julian looked completely calm, holding a leather briefcase under his arm, clearly unaware that his cousin was currently tied to a chair in the basement wine cellar.
"Gabriel!" Julian said warmly, offering a wide, polished corporate smile. "My God, I heard the news from Dr. Reed! They're saying your fever broke! It's a miracle!"
Gabriel didn't smile back. He sat in his armchair, casually resting his chin on his right hand.
"It wasn't a miracle, Julian," Gabriel said softly. "It was a maid."
Julian blinked, looking over at Sadie standing by the window. "I... I beg your pardon?"
"Sadie Brooks," Gabriel introduced gently. "She found the black thread you supplied to your cousin."
Julian’s polished smile froze. All the color drained from his face instantly.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about, Gabriel," Julian stammered, taking a step backward toward the door. "What thread? I'm your financial director! I handle the shipping investments—"
"You own thirty percent of the Alder Textile Mill," Gabriel interrupted, his voice dropping into a deadly register. "The mill that manufactured the petroleum-coated nylon thread used to poison my shoulder. You promised Dominic Thorne my shipping terminals in exchange for twenty million dollars and full control of Port Alder."
Julian gasped, realizing his cover was completely blown. He dropped his leather briefcase and reached frantically into his coat pocket for a concealed firearm.
CRACK!
A loud gunshot echoed through the study.
Julian screamed, dropping to his knees as a bullet from Marcus’s suppressed pistol tore through his knee cap. Blood pooled onto the Persian rug as Julian collapsed, sobbing and clutching his leg.
Sadie flinched, stepping back against the glass window, her heart racing. She had never seen a man shot right in front of her.
Gabriel stood up slowly from his armchair. He walked over to Julian, stopping right beside the groaning man.
"You thought I was going to rot away in that bed, didn't you, Julian?" Gabriel whispered, stepping heavily onto Julian's uninjured hand.
Julian shrieked in agony. "Gabriel! Please! Thorne forced me! He said he’d ruin me!"
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Gabriel didn't waste another breath on him. He looked over at Marcus.
"Take Julian and his cousin to the docks," Gabriel ordered flatly. "Inform Dominic Thorne that his poison failed. And tell him... Gabriel Vale is coming for his crown."
