The conference room at the Hawthorne family’s private law firm was sterile and soundproof, a place where emotion was stripped away, leaving only the cold, hard facts. The long mahogany table gleamed under recessed lighting. The air was still.
Caspian stood in the back of the room, a silent observer cloaked in shadow.
Maria Sanchez sat at the table, a cup of water untouched before her. Zara was beside her, a reassuring presence, a steady anchor in the clinical silence. Across from them sat Elias Vance, the Hawthorne’s most trusted legal counsel, a man whose calm demeanor masked a mind like a steel trap.
“Maria,” Elias began, his voice gentle but precise. “I am going to ask you to recount the events as they occurred. We will record your statement, transcribe it, and you will then sign it under oath, making it a sworn affidavit. Do you understand?”
Maria nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “I do.”
“Then please,” Elias said, leaning back slightly. “Begin whenever you are ready.”
And she began. Her voice, though quiet, was steady. All the fear and tears had been burned away, leaving a core of resolve. She recounted everything, each detail a precise, damning indictment.
“Ms. Finch instructed me to document symptoms that were not present. Specifically, severe abdominal pain, nausea, and fainting spells…”
Caspian listened, each word a nail hammered into the coffin of his former self. The man who had believed her. The man who had called Lyra cruel.
“…she coached me on what to say to Dr. Finch, her uncle, during his examinations. She had a list of medical terms to use. She called it her ‘script’…”
He saw it all with horrifying clarity. The calculated deception. The casual cruelty. The complete and utter fraud he had not only fallen for, but championed.
“…after the news of the pregnancy, she became more erratic. She orchestrated the incident at the hospital. She told her associate, Daniel, exactly how to grab her, where to push her to make the fall look convincing…”
He felt a profound, bottomless shame. He had stood by Isolde’s side after that staged attack, his heart filled with rage at Lyra. He had been a fool. A weapon in the hands of a monster. He said nothing. His face was a mask of cold fury, his posture rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
When Maria finished, the silence in the room was absolute.
Elias slid the freshly printed document across the table. Maria picked up the pen, her hand no longer shaking, and signed her name with a firm, clear stroke. The lawyer notarized it with a heavy, satisfying stamp. The deed was done.
Elias carefully placed the affidavit into a thick legal envelope, sealed it, and walked to the back of the room where Caspian stood. He handed the envelope to him.
“This is the bullet,” the lawyer said, his voice a low, grim murmur. “Now you, Mrs. Hawthorne, and Dr. Ali must decide when, and how, to fire the gun.”
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