Chapter 37 The Devil in the Glass

Chapter 37 The Devil in the Glass
The interrogation room was just a plain concrete box. No windows, no decorations, and no clock on the wall. The only light came from a single bright LED panel above the center of the room, casting a sharp, almost blinding glow. It showed every detail on a person’s face—every drop of sweat, every tiny movement—like nothing could be hidden.

Mikael Roosevelt sat in a metal chair, his hands cuffed to a bar under the table. He still wore the orange jumpsuit, but somehow, he carried it like it was expensive clothing. He didn’t look tired. He didn’t look weak. He sat completely still, his eyes locked on the door.

The door opened, and a man in a dark suit walked in. He was an older detective, someone who had spent decades questioning criminals. He carried a thick file and a plastic cup of lukewarm coffee. He sat across from Mikael and dropped the file heavily on the table.

Mikael didn’t react. Not even a blink.

“You’ve been here for hours, Mikael,” the detective said, leaning forward. “Your lawyers are outside arguing about your rights, but the judge gave us time. You might as well talk.”

Mikael tilted his head slightly, a small, cold smile forming. “You already have a file. Why do you need me to say anything? Everything you think is the truth should already be in there.”

“This file says you’re a thief and a kidnapper,” the detective replied sharply. “It says you stole forty million dollars from the Vanderbilt Group. It says you built a hidden bunker under your estate to keep a woman you took from her life. But what I want to know is where she is now.”

Mikael leaned back as much as the cuffs allowed. “I’ve already told your people. Lyara McKinley was taken from my home by armed men. If you were better at your job, you’d be looking for them instead of questioning the man who lost his wife.”

“Your wife?” The detective let out a rough laugh. “There’s no marriage certificate, Mikael. Just an obsession. We have statements from your former staff. We have proof of the illegal cameras you put in her mother’s hospital room. You didn’t love her. You controlled her.”

Mikael’s eyes darkened. His expression stayed calm, but the tension in the room grew heavier. “Love is just a word people use when they have nothing else to offer. I gave her everything. I gave her protection. I gave her a future her family could never give.”

“You gave her a prison,” the detective shot back. He opened the file and showed a photo of the bunker—the cold, empty room where Lyara had been kept. “Does this look like a gift? This is where you kept the mother of your child. You’re a monster.”

Mikael looked at the photo. There was no guilt in his face. Instead, there was something close to pride. “That room was safe. Controlled. No one could get to her there. If she had stayed, she wouldn’t be running now. She would still be with me.”

“Safe with you? You’re insane,” the detective said, standing up and pacing the small room. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life in a place like this, only worse. The Vanderbilts are making sure of that. They want justice for what you did to Isabella.”

Mikael’s smile grew slightly. “Isabella Vanderbilt is playing a dangerous game. She thinks exposing my money will destroy me. She doesn’t understand—money is just paper. My power comes from what I’m willing to do… things people like you are too afraid to even think about.”

The detective slammed his hands on the table and leaned closer. “Where is she? Tell us, and maybe we can help you with the charges.”

Mikael leaned forward too, their faces close. His voice dropped into a soft, chilling tone. “You want to find her? Be the hero? You won’t. Because Lyara McKinley is part of me now. Even if I’m locked away for a hundred years, she will still feel me every time she closes her eyes. She belongs to me. And I always take back what’s mine.”

The detective stepped back, a flicker of real fear showing on his face. He had dealt with killers and criminals, but there was something different about Mikael. Something empty. Something inhuman.

On the other side of the thick wall, in a small observation room, two women stood behind a one-way mirror.

Eleanor Roosevelt stood with her arms crossed, staring at her son. Beside her, Isabella Vanderbilt held onto the edge of a console, her knuckles turning white. They could hear everything through the speakers.

“He’s not going to talk,” Isabella whispered, her voice shaking. “Look at him. He’s not even worried. He’s enjoying this.”

Eleanor didn’t look away. “He’s always been like this. Even as a child. If he couldn’t have something, he would rather destroy it than let anyone else have it. He doesn’t see Lyara as a person. He sees her as something he owns.”

“We have to find her first,” Isabella said, turning to her. “If the police find her, she can testify. If Mikael finds her… she’s dead. He’ll kill her and the baby before letting her go.”

“He won’t kill the child,” Eleanor said calmly. “That child carries his name. He’ll find her and start everything again. He’s a Roosevelt. We don’t accept losing.”

Isabella looked back at the glass. “He’s a monster. How can you stay calm? He’s your son, and he talks about her like she’s nothing.”

“I’m calm because I know what comes next,” Eleanor replied. “Mikael thinks he’s the hunter. He doesn’t realize I’m the one who taught him. And I’m the only one who knows how to stop him.”

Inside the room, the detective finally gave up. He picked up his files, looking frustrated. “We’re done for now. But don’t get comfortable, Roosevelt. Your bail hearing is tomorrow. And I’ve already talked to the judge. You’re not getting out.”

“We’ll see,” Mikael said quietly.

The detective left, the heavy door slamming shut behind him.

Mikael was alone. The room was silent except for the faint buzzing of the light. He didn’t move for a long moment. He just stared at the mirror.

He knew they were there. He could feel his mother watching him. He could feel her judgment. He knew Isabella was there too.

Slowly, he stood up. The cuffs clinked softly, but he ignored them. He walked toward the mirror until his face was close to the glass.

On the other side, Isabella gasped and stepped back, but Eleanor stayed still.

Mikael stared straight ahead, as if he could see through the glass. As if he knew exactly where they were standing.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t hit the glass.

Instead, he slowly licked his lips, a slow, unsettling movement. Then he smiled—not a happy smile, but something darker. A promise.

He leaned closer and spoke. The microphone was off, but his lips were clear enough for Eleanor to read.

“I am coming home, Mother.”

Then his eyes shifted slightly toward where Isabella stood. His gaze turned colder. He raised his cuffed hands and made a slow snapping motion with his fingers, like breaking a neck.

Isabella turned away. “He’s insane. Eleanor, we need to leave.”

Eleanor didn’t move at first. She kept staring at him, and for the first time, she felt something close to fear. She had taken everything from him—his money, his company, his home. She had exposed everything.

But now, looking at him, she realized she hadn’t destroyed him.

She had only taken away the last things that kept him controlled.

Mikael winked at the glass. Then he calmly walked back and sat down, closing his eyes as if he could sleep.

“Let’s go, Isabella,” Eleanor said quietly.

They left the observation room, walking down the long, empty hallway. But the image of his smile stayed with them.

Mikael Roosevelt was locked up. He was facing years in prison. His empire was gone.

But Eleanor knew the truth.

The prison walls weren’t there to hold him forever.

They were just giving him time.

And when Mikael Roosevelt got out, the world would learn what happens when he stops following rules—and starts hunting without limits.

Inside the cell, Mikael’s breathing was calm and steady. He wasn’t thinking about the case. He wasn’t thinking about the detective.

He remembered the way her skin felt when she was afraid.

“Soon, Lyara,” he whispered into the empty room. “Soon.”