Chapter 6 - Freya’s Iron Grasp
The arrest of Leo Sterling sent a shockwave through the upper echelons of Nashville society that rattled crystal chandeliers from Belle Meade to Green Hills.
By noon, local news vans were parked three deep outside the entrance of St. Jude Memorial Hospital, broadcasting live feeds of reporters standing in front of the emergency bay doors, breathlessly recounting the details of the "socialite poisoning scandal."
Inside her sprawling estate in Belle Meade, Freya Sterling was not panicking. Panic was for people who didn't own politicians.
Sitting at her antique mahogany writing desk, surrounded by framed photographs of charity galas and corporate boardrooms, Freya dialed a private encrypted number on her landline phone.
“Arthur,” Freya said the moment the line connected, her voice dropping into its most imperious, commanding register. “The police are overreaching. My son has been detained on utterly fabricated charges by a rogue detective. I need you to initiate the judicial contingency plan immediately.”
A heavy, static-laced sigh came through the receiver. “Freya, the evidence the state has gathered is substantial. The field tests on the tea supply came back positive for thallium, and the search warrant recovered your personal ledger from a locked box.”
“My ledger was stolen during an illegal search!” Freya snapped, her fingernails tapping sharply against the wood of her desk. “Listen to me very carefully, Arthur. If Leo goes down for this, the entire family portfolio—including the commercial real estate trusts and the political donations we’ve funneled through Sterling Holdings—will be subpoenaed. Do you want the entire state attorney general’s office digging through our foundation accounts?”
“What do you propose?” Arthur asked cautiously.
“We isolate the variable,” Freya said coldly, her eyes fixed on a portrait of her late husband hanging above the fireplace. “Judith is a weak-willed girl from an ordinary background with no living family to advocate for her. If her medical condition is framed as a pre-existing psychological disorder—a self-inflicted Munchausen syndrome where she poisoned herself for sympathy—the criminal case against Leo collapses under reasonable doubt.”
“And the physical evidence?”
“We have three corporate doctors willing to testify that her heavy metal levels were the result of an accidental occupational exposure or dietary quirk,” Freya said smoothly. “All you need to do is ensure that Judge Callahan handles the arraignment tomorrow morning. He understands how fragile family reputations are in this city.”
The silence on the other end of the line lasted for three long seconds.
“Freya,” Arthur said quietly. “Your son is sitting in a holding cell facing twenty-five years. You can't spin your way out of a federal heavy metal poisoning indictment with a friendly judge.”
Before Freya could answer, the heavy oak double doors of her study swung open without a warning knock.
Freya looked up, expecting her housekeeper or her personal assistant.
Instead, standing in the doorway were two uniformed state troopers and Detective Vance, holding a fresh set of arrest warrants.
“Freya Sterling,” Detective Vance said, stepping into the room with his badge held high. “You’re under arrest as an accessory before and after the fact to attempted murder, destruction of evidence, and witness tampering.”
Freya slowly stood up from her mahogany desk, her posture as rigid as a steel rod, her face flushing with furious indignation.
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“You dare step foot into my home without an appointment?” Freya hissed, her voice vibrating with venom. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“Yeah,” Detective Vance said, walking straight up to her desk and snapping the cold steel handcuffs around her wrists with a crisp, definitive click. “You’re inmate number four-eighty-two as of about ten minutes from now. Let’s go, Mrs. Sterling. The car is waiting.”
