第5章 Chapter 5: The Last Door

"Marcus falsified the financial records that established motive," Catherine said, the gun moving between us with practiced ease. "Thomas destroyed biological evidence from the autopsy. Victor used his diplomatic connections to pressure witnesses. Eleanor—" her eyes found mine, "—you built a psychological profile on fabricated data that you KNEW was fabricated."

"I didn't know—"

"You suspected. Cornelius proved it. You had doubts about Whitfield's guilt and you buried them because the prosecution was paying you three times your university salary."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to explain the pressure, the politics, the way certainty had eroded slowly over months until I'd simply... stopped looking.

But Catherine was right. I had known. Somewhere beneath the professional justifications and the peer-reviewed methodologies, I had known.

"And Harriet?" I asked, because the journalist hadn't been named.

Catherine's expression softened. "Harriet is here because Cornelius hired her to document everything. The files, the confession, the justice that the courts never delivered."

"You killed Marcus," Thomas said.

"Marcus killed himself the day he chose money over truth. I simply... expedited the consequences."

The gun steadied on Thomas next, and I saw what was about to happen—a meticulous elimination dressed up as righteous fury.

"Catherine." I stepped forward. "If you do this, Daniel never goes free. You go to prison, and the real evidence stays buried in this house. Let Harriet publish the files. Let the world see what we did."

"The world doesn't care about truth!"

"Then let ME care." I held her gaze. "Let me testify. Let me stand in court and say I was wrong—that I was compromised. I'll destroy my career, my reputation, everything. But your brother walks free."

The silence stretched like wire.

Then Catherine Ashworth—born Catherine Whitfield, a woman who had spent seven years becoming someone else, who had married old Cornelius himself to get close to his investigation—lowered the gun.

"There's one more thing," she said. "One more door Cornelius wanted opened."

She walked to the far wall of the study and pressed a hidden panel. Behind it was a door—the last door—and behind that, a room containing a video camera, already recording, and a live satellite uplink.

Everything we'd said in the last hour had been broadcast to the internet.

Cornelius Ashworth's final trap wasn't for Catherine.

It was for us.