The camera's unblinking eye stared at Isabella, its red recording light steady in the dimly lit room. Richard stood behind it, his silhouette outlined against the bank of monitors that displayed various areas of the compound. The confession he'd prepared lay on the table before her—three pages of manufactured crimes, each more damning than the last.
"Begin with your name and position," Richard instructed coldly. "Then proceed exactly as written."
Isabella sat stiffly in the chair, her handcuffs now removed but freedom still far from reach. Two armed guards positioned at the door ensured compliance.
"And if I refuse?" she asked, though they both knew it was an empty challenge.
Richard's expression didn't change as he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and turned it toward her. The live feed showed Christina and Liam, now captured and held in separate rooms of the compound.
