Broken

Chapter 40: A dangerous game

Officer Cortez walked into the interrogation room, his steps deliberate and heavy, as if he wanted to make sure Fatima knew exactly who held the reins of power at this moment. He smirked, and Fatima immediately rolled her eyes, the sight of him filling her with equal parts annoyance and anger.

"Fatima Garcia—" Cortez began, but Fatima cut him off sharply.

"Wilson," she corrected, her voice low but firm. "I legally changed my name."

The tension in the room was palpable, but Cortez wasn't fazed. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, shaking his head with an amused expression.

"You can change your name all you want," he said with a sneer, "but that doesn't erase the fact that you have the bloodline of a criminal."

Fatima's eyes narrowed into slits, her face hardening into an icy glare. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, staring him down with a look that could cut steel. If looks could kill, Cortez would already be six feet under.

"You can sit there all high and mighty, Garcia," he said, emphasizing her old name with spite. "But that bloodline—your father's legacy—it's always gonna be there. You think you've erased it, but you can't scrub that shit clean."

Fatima didn't flinch. She had dealt with men like Cortez her whole life—men who thought they could intimidate her, make her cower. But she wasn't a woman who broke easily, if at all.

"And yet," she replied coolly, "here I am, still free after all these years."

Cortez smirked and shook his head. "I gotta give it to you, though. You kept your identity well hidden. For 15 years at that. That takes money and power, two things you've got in spades."

He leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the table as he loomed over her, his eyes boring into hers. But Fatima remained unfazed.

"But in here," Cortez continued, his voice low and threatening, "I have the power. All that money and influence you got out there in the world? It means nothing in here."

Fatima just stared at him, her face a mask of indifference, though the fire in her eyes was undeniable. She was angry, but she wasn't about to let him see how much this situation rattled her. Cortez might think he had control, but Fatima knew how to play the long game.

"Money," Fatima said softly, her voice calm and calculated, "isn't the only thing that buys influence. Sometimes it's knowledge. Sometimes it's secrets. And I've got plenty of both."

Cortez frowned slightly, taken aback by her confidence. He hated that about her—the way she could make even the most damning situation seem like it was still under her control.

"We have a search warrant for your company and your house," he snapped, trying to regain the upper hand. "If I find anything—and I do mean anything, Ms. Garcia—I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life in prison."

Fatima tilted her head and gave him a small, unbothered smile, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Good luck with that."

Cortez scoffed, standing up straight again and crossing his arms over his chest. "You think this is funny?" he asked, his tone sharp, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Hilarious, actually," Fatima said, her smile widening just a bit. "You couldn't even get my father to do life. Best believe when I leave this place tonight, I won't be back, because you won't find shit."

Her words were nonchalant, almost as if she were talking about something as simple as the weather, but the weight behind them was unmistakable. Fatima didn't just believe in her own innocence—she knew Cortez had nothing on her. Her empire had been built on years of meticulous planning and careful execution. There was no way she'd let a man like Cortez tear it all down.