Chapter 7: Madison's Last Move
They brought Madison through the front entrance of the Westwood estate in handcuffs at 1:22 a.m.
She had made it as far as a parking structure on Michigan Avenue.
The car she had tried to reach — a black sedan registered to a company called Lakeshore Asset Holdings — had been under surveillance for reasons that had nothing to do with Claire and everything to do with the money Caleb had been moving for eighteen months.
Madison walked in with her chin up.
Her midnight-blue gown was torn at the hem from the trellis.
Her hair had come loose.
She looked at Adrian across the entrance hall and her expression was not what he expected.
It wasn't fear.
It wasn't remorse.
It was fury.
"You have nothing," she said.
"A ring in a box.
A woman who took money to lie.
A phone that proves nothing."
"Sit down, Ms.
Cole," Vera said.
"I will not sit down in this house." Madison's voice was controlled and sharp.
"I want my attorney."
"You'll have that opportunity.
Right now I need you to—"
"Adrian." Madison looked past Vera directly at him.
"Think about what you're doing.
Everything you think you know — it's not what it looks like.
Claire was going to destroy this family.
She had already contacted a journalist.
Did you know that?
Did anyone tell you that?" Her voice softened, just slightly.
"She wasn't protecting you.
She was protecting herself.
She found out about the transfers and she was going to use them.
Against all of us.
Including you."
The room was very quiet.
Natalie made a sound.
"Don't," Natalie said.
"Don't you dare."
"I'm telling him the truth—"
"You're doing what you always do." Natalie stepped forward.
"You're making Claire the problem.
You've been doing it for three years.
At the funeral, you told everyone she had been struggling.
That she'd been distant.
That Adrian hadn't seen how bad it was." Natalie's voice was shaking.
"I heard you.
I heard you standing next to her casket telling people my sister had been falling apart.
And I couldn't say anything because I didn't know what you'd done yet."
Madison looked at her.
"Natalie—"
"She called me the week before she d\*ed." Natalie's voice broke and steadied.
"She told me she had found something.
She said she was scared but she was going to handle it.
She made me promise not to tell anyone until she talked to Adrian first." Tears ran down her face and she didn't wipe them.
"I kept that promise.
I kept it for three years because I thought it didn't matter anymore.
Because I thought she was just g\*ne."
She looked at Madison.
"What did you do to her car?"
Madison's jaw tightened.
"I want my attorney."
"What did you do to her car, Madison?"
"I am not answering that."
Vera stepped between them.
"Ms.
Cole.
I need you to come with me."
Madison looked at Adrian one final time.
"You'll never be able to prove it," she said.
"Whatever you think happened on that road — you will never prove it."
"We found the mechanic," Vera said quietly.
Madison went very still.
"A man named Roy Sutter.
He worked at a service station in Waukegan.
He was paid three thousand dollars in cash to loosen the brake line coupling on a silver Mercedes registered to Claire Westwood." Vera's voice was flat and even.
"He kept the cash envelope.
He kept the note that came with it.
He's been keeping them in a safe deposit box because he couldn't sleep." She paused.
"He called our tip line six hours ago.
Before we even knew to look for him."
The color left Madison's face completely.
Not the careful, controlled pallor from upstairs.
This was something else.
This was the moment a person understands that the thing they believed was buried is standing in the room with them.
"Take her out," Vera said to the officers.
They did.
Madison didn't speak again.
May you like
At the door she stopped for one second and looked back at the Westwood entrance hall — the marble floor, the gilded portraits, the staircase she had climbed a hundred times as Claire's best friend.
Then she was gone.
