Chapter 39: Torture?
“Interrogation room?” Frederick’s words were barely out when Richard burst in, visibly startled by the term. The interrogation room was reserved for special prisoners. Ordinary lawbreakers weren’t subjected to its horrors; they were handled by the police station instead. Hardly any woman ever set foot in the interrogation room, let alone Claire, the pampered princess of the Prescott family. Richard had never seen anyone survive the merciless torment that took place within.
Just yesterday, everything seemed normal. When Frederick brought Claire back from Jacob’s villa, he looked distressed, spending another night there. Therefore, Richard wondered why Frederick asked him to send Claire to the interrogation room so early this morning.
“Do you have a problem?”
Fury gnawed at Frederick as his anger flared at Richard’s hesitation. Though his voice wasn’t loud, the aura emanating from him was chilling, sending shivers down Richard’s spine.
“No, there’s no issue at all. However, Ms. Prescott is already wounded. If we resort to every tactic we have in the interrogation room on her, I fear that Ms. Prescott might not make it through the night.”
Richard dared not defy Frederick, yet he couldn’t shake off the fear that gripped him when he recalled the events of the previous night. Naturally, in Claire’s presence, Richard was well aware of where to draw the line. He refrained from mentioning that last night’s incidents were a direct result of Frederick’s directives. Last night, Richard had simply been the messenger, carrying out Frederick’s commands by passing orders to the gangs at the Eclipse Nightclub. This chain of command, however, unwittingly set the stage for Jacob to kidnap Claire. If they had arrived any later, Claire might have met her demise at Jacob’s hands.
Now, if Claire were to be taken to the interrogation room, what if history repeated itself, and the interrogators, unaware of her fragile state, were to end her life? Richard had been closely watching Frederick and began to suspect that Frederick’s feelings towards Claire weren’t as steeped in animosity as Frederick outwardly portrayed. Richard even harbored a suspicion that if Anna had not met her tragic end four years ago, Frederick and Claire might have been together.
“Frederick, you know Claire’s character. Just be more cautious in the future. She cannot die now. My grandma wouldn’t be able to bear it.”
“Given our standing, we’re more than equipped to handle a single woman. There’s no rush at the moment. Let her recover for a few days. Remember, Anna died because of her. If we allow her to die too swiftly, it would be letting her off too lightly.”
Upon hearing the dire news that Claire was on the brink of death, Harrison instantly thought of Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s current health was fragile; she could not withstand any shock. Claire’s life or death mattered little compared to the well-being of Elizabeth, who regularly communicated with Claire through calls or video chats.
“Alright, Harrison, I’ll heed your advice.”
Frederick’s anger subsided, recognizing the wisdom in Harrison’s words. Surrounded by adversaries and recently nominated as a presidential candidate, Frederick could not afford any mishaps. The support of the Prescott family, the wealthiest in Kingstown, was indispensable. His fury had momentarily clouded his judgment.
“Let’s not let such a conniving woman ruin our day. Come, let me take you out for a drink to soothe your nerves.”
Noticing Frederick’s darkened mood, Harrison gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before gently steering him away. Richard also sighed in relief, following Frederick and Harrison out of the room. Yet, as the trio departed, none of them caught sight of the nurse by the ward’s door, who was quietly adjusting the medicine bottles on her cart.
Throughout the ordeal, Claire remained utterly silent, not uttering a single word from start to finish. Once she saw the trio disappear from view, she could no longer restrain the tears welling up in her eyes, and they began to fall, one drop at a time. She had tried her utmost to explain, but deep down, she knew it was futile. The death of Anna four years ago had effectively condemned Claire to a metaphorical death sentence unless, by some miracle, Anna could return to life. Otherwise, regardless of her actions or words, they would all be in vain.
Although Claire was clueless about how Harrison got the recording, she knew it could only have come from a handful of people who despised her, either Diana or Caroline. In this moment of dire need, the sole beacon of hope for her salvation and protection was none other than Elizabeth. As long as Elizabeth remained by her side, Claire knew in her heart that she would survive. The memory of Elizabeth, the only soul in the vast world who had ever extended a hand of kindness to Claire, now flooded her with a profound sense of sorrow and aching anguish. Why would fate be so cruel, afflicting such a kind-hearted soul like Elizabeth with cancer? Claire had fought tooth and nail to escape the clutches of imprisonment, but never in a manner that would jeopardize Elizabeth’s health. In her heart, Claire prayed fervently, over and over, for Elizabeth’s longevity.
At the hospital gate, after Richard, Frederick, and Harrison had driven away, the young nurse who had been standing at the ward’s door timidly emerged and hurried towards a black car parked not far away. As she approached, the car window rolled down slightly, just enough for a conversation and the exchange of items.
“Sir, this is the recording I made in the ward just now,” the nurse said, her head bowed respectfully. She dared not meet the gaze of the person inside the car as she handed over the recorder.
“The money will be in your account within five minutes,” came the soft reply from within the car. Through the car window, Arthur gently grasped the recorder.
“Thank you, sir.” With beads of sweat forming on her anxious brow, the nurse hastily expressed her gratitude. She sensed an overwhelming aura of intensity emanating from Arthur, making the air around her thick with pressure.
Arthur sealed the car window, isolating himself with the playback of the recording. A smile of contentment played upon his lips as he turned to Shawn Blake, instructing, “Take this to Caroline. There’s no hurry. Let’s give them a moment to breathe.”
Shawn accepted the recorder, but his brow furrowed in doubt. “Mr. Arthur Hawthorne, isn’t this a bit excessive for just a woman?”
“Even a dam stretching a thousand miles can fall to the tiniest hole. Now, regarding those incidents from four years past, what progress have you made?” Arthur gazed outside, tapping rhythmically on the window.
Chapter 40: A Mysterious Message