Truth and Fury
The next day, Amber Ann stepped into the offices of Two Minds Private Eye, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floorboards. Even with the impending storm of the meeting hanging over her, her scientific mind was constantly at work, seeking order in chaos. She found herself cataloging the décor, thinking that a 1950s "Noir" theme would be a brilliant concept for one of Calm Stays' unique boutique room designs. Her eyes ran over the vintage lamps and the specific shade of teal on the walls, savoring the commitment to detail. By the time the secretary led them toward the inner sanctum, she was already mentally sketching out a series of "Decades Suites"—a creative escape from the heavy reality of Jessica's betrayal.
The door opened to reveal a luxurious space that was a true Hollywood version of 1950s executive power. It was a room defined by heavy, dark mahogany, sharp angular silhouettes, and rich, natural textures that felt grounded and ancient.
Amber settled onto a large, butter-soft leather sofa. She sat with a rigid, practiced patience, a mask of calm covering the churning anxiety in her gut. Dan sat beside her, his body vibrating with a restless uncertainty. He kept stealing glances at Amber, his eyes searching for a sign of how much she could handle. He looked toward Clarence, and the detective offered a solemn, steadying nod. Omar, meanwhile, remained standing, his gaze lingering on Amber with a look of professional respect.
"Good morning, Mrs. Lance-Trace. I am Clarence Dens, and this is my partner, Omar Johnson."
Amber nodded to both men in turn and settled in for an info-dump.
"We were hired by Mr. Trace to discover whether or..."
Amber raised her hand, a small but commanding gesture that cut through the formalities. "I am aware of why we are here, Mr. Dens. I know my sister better than anyone in this world. You do not need to prepare me for her cruelty, nor do you need to soften the blow. Please, give your report freely."
Clarence hesitated, glancing at the folder in his hand, but Omar's lips creased into a small, appreciative smile. He liked the steel in her voice; it reminded him of the officers he used to command.
"Very good," Omar said, stepping forward. He looked at Dan briefly, his voice turning low and clinical. "Your husband has made some exceptionally poor choices in the past, Ma'am, but it is my observation that he is currently in the middle of a significant redemption cycle. He is truly trying to make things right."
Omar walked around one of the two massive wooden desks that dominated the room like twin fortresses. "My partner's apprehension is well-founded. Both the audio recordings and the digital trail we gathered are... unpleasant. To be frank, the things we heard were rather insulting to you."
Clarence moved silently, setting a tray of chilled drinks before them. With a subtle, almost invisible movement, he slid a box of tissues within Amber's reach. Amber stared at the box for a moment, the sight of it fueling a fresh surge of defiance. She made a silent, iron-clad promise to herself: she would not cry today. She would not give Jessica the satisfaction of another tear shed in her name.
She reached for a bottle of sweet tea, the glass cold against her palm. She popped the top and took a long, steadying swig. Omar took that as the green light.
"Jessica Lance is indeed pregnant," Omar began, his voice dropping into a professional monotone. "However, our findings indicate the child is not yours, Mr. Trace. The father is almost certainly Christopher Patrick, though she also visits a fertility clinic owned by a personal friend of hers, Dr. Diana Shay. Dr. Shay has a notorious reputation for practicing what the medical board calls 'unorthodox' medicine. She's currently a defendant in several civil suits involving the use of unverified and unknown genetic materials to guarantee specific outcomes—like multiple births."
Amber sipped her tea, her throat feeling tight. The scientific part of her brain was horrified by the medical malpractice, while the sister in her was sickened by the lengths Jessica would go to for a "twins" narrative.
"That resolves the initial paternity issue," Omar continued, "but our investigation unearthed a much more dangerous web. Jessica has a high-level contact in the City Planning office—a woman named Karen Sanns. Sanns is currently drafting a proposal to rezone the specific area surrounding Blue Serene Lake."
Amber's bottle froze halfway to her mouth, the condensation dripping onto her hand.
"Our analysts suggest the proposal won't actually pass," Omar added, his eyes narrowing. "But passing it isn't the point. The mere existence of a rezoning proposal acts as a legal chokehold. It can halt all new construction permits and effectively freeze your ability to secure further commercial loans. You'd be subjected to aggressive monthly inspections and be required to disclose earning statements to the county. It's a move designed to bleed a new business dry before it can even open its doors."
Amber nodded slowly, the complexity of the puzzle pieces clicking into place. Jessica wasn't just trying to steal her husband; she was trying to destroy Amber all together.
"We also feel it is imperative to continue the investigation into her lawyer friend, Renee Davenport," Omar said, glancing at his partner. "We've found whispers of illegal document tampering, but Davenport has been doing this a long time. She knows how to bury a trail. I believe we need more time to suss out exactly what she is doing for your sister right now. My partner feels we've fulfilled the contract, but my gut says otherwise."
Before Clarence could defend his position, Amber was on her feet. She began to pace the opulent room, her movements sharp and predatory. Dan's eyes went wide; he had known Amber for over 8 years and she had always been "mellow," but the woman pacing before him now was a storm.
She stopped abruptly, turning a gaze of pure, freezing fury toward Omar.
"Mr. Johnson, thank you for your candor. I want every stone unturned. Please continue your investigations into the lawyer, the planner, and anyone else that you find relevant. I will pay the fees."
Dan stood up beside her, his voice firm and desperate to be heard. "No. This is my responsibility. I will pay for the completion of the investigation." He turned to Omar. "You have absolute, undeniable proof the baby isn't mine?"
"I have her on audio, clear as a bell, discussing the ruse with her lover, Christopher Patrick. She also speaks... quite vitriolically about Mrs. Lance-Trace in several recordings. If you would like to hear the recordings for yourself, I have them ready."
"No," Dan said, his voice cracking slightly as he looked at Amber. "That isn't necessary. I don't want her to hear another word of that garbage. She's been hurt enough."
Amber was already miles away, her mind spinning through the legal and financial defenses she needed to build. It took her a moment to realize Dan was looking at her.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice sounding far away even to her own ears. "I don't want to hear the tapes. I don't need the emotional clutter. I only need to know the facts that will affect my project and my life."
She stepped forward and extended her hand to Omar, her grip surprisingly strong. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson. Truly."
As Dan turned back to the detectives to finalize the new contract, Amber sat back down in the heavy silence. The information was a blur of complex puzzle pieces, but the picture they formed was clear. Jessica had spent her life thinking she was the only one who could play the game.
It was time for Amber Ann to show her that when a biochemist plays, she plays for keeps.