Synopsis

The fluorescent lights of the precinct hummed, a sterile counterpoint to the turmoil in Detective Harding’s gut. Across the steel table sat Clara Bellweather, a woman whose carefully constructed composure seemed brittle around the edges. The accusations were damning: embezzlement, fraud, a web of deceit spun over years of corporate climbing. But something in her eyes – a flicker of desperation, perhaps, or something colder – told him this was more complicated than it appeared. “Ms. Bellweathe