The interrogation room felt like a prison—cold, stifling, and oppressive. I sat motionless in the metal chair, my wrists resting on the table as I refused to acknowledge the officers looming over me.
"Miss Tracie," one officer said, his voice calm but firm. "Cooperate, and this will go much quicker. Tell us why you were near Penny Eddy's room."
I kept my gaze fixed on the table, unwilling to give him an answer.
"Miss Tracie," another officer urged, his tone growing impatient, "if you want this to end, you need to be honest with us."
Finally, I lifted my eyes to meet his. "I want a lawyer," I said, my voice unwavering.
One of the officers sighed, clearly frustrated. "We’ll get to that, but for now, you need to answer our questions."
I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms. "If you let me make a call—to my mother—you’ll get the answers you’re looking for. But you won’t, will you?"
The officers exchanged a brief glance but remained silent.
"I demand to call her," I insisted, my voice rising slightly. "If you do, you'll understand exactly who I am and the truth about everything."
"Enough," one of the officers snapped, slamming his hand on the table. "You’re not calling anyone until we’re finished here."
The door swung open, and Ginger entered with Daniel trailing behind her. Ginger’s eyes immediately landed on the jewelry I was wearing.
"Take it off," she ordered, her voice as cold as ice.
I raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"The necklace," Ginger repeated, her finger pointing at it. "And the rest of the jewelry. You’re a thief, Tracie. You don’t deserve to wear them."
I clenched my jaw in defiance. "These are mine."
Ginger let out a laugh, as if the idea were absurd. "Yours? Don’t make me laugh. I’ll hold onto them until the real Lady Whitaker shows up. Let’s see how long you can keep pretending."
"Ginger," Daniel said hesitantly, but she shot him a glare, silencing him instantly.
She turned back to me with a sharp look. "Just because your last name is Whitaker doesn’t mean you’re part of the family. I’ve known you since college, Tracie. The Whitaker family doesn’t even have a daughter. Stop pretending."
I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to argue. Of course, they didn’t know the truth about my family—my parents had never spoken of me publicly. It was a choice I made to protect myself, but now, seeing everything unfold, it felt like the time to reveal who I truly was.
Ginger glanced at Daniel. "We should take the jewelry and return it to Lady Whitaker. Maybe she’ll reconsider the partnership."
"That sounds like a good plan," Daniel agreed, his voice distant.
I scoffed. "Your father’s dead, and all you care about is money?" I shook my head in disgust. "It almost makes me think you wanted him gone."
"Shut up, Tracie," Ginger snapped, and for the first time, I could see the true malice in her eyes. The more I saw her, the more I loathed her—and Daniel too. He should’ve been the one who died.
Ginger stepped closer to me, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the necklace around my neck. "Take it off," she demanded, pointing at the chain. "You don’t have the right to wear that."
I raised an eyebrow and met her glare with one of my own. "I’m not giving you anything. It’s mine."
"Yours?" Ginger let out a sarcastic laugh. "Stop lying. You stole it. Hand it over, or I’ll take it from you myself."
She reached for the necklace, her fingers brushing the gold chain, but I quickly stepped back, swatting her hand away.
"Don’t touch me," I snapped, my temper flaring.
"You don’t deserve it!" Ginger hissed, her anger erupting as she lunged at me again.
We struggled, her nails scraping against my neck as I pushed her hands away. The noise drew the attention of both the police officers and Daniel.
"Enough!" A commanding voice rang out, silencing the chaos in an instant.
Everyone turned toward the door, where a tall, poised woman stood—my mother.
