Chapter 9 - THE VISIT TO CELL BLOCK C
Three weeks later, the gray concrete corridors of the Curran-Fromhold Correctional Facility smelled of disinfectant, cold metal, and despair.
I sat on a metal stool behind a scratched pane of bulletproof glass, wearing a dark cashmere coat, my back straight, my posture flawless. My physical recovery had been agonizing, but every time the surgical scars pulled beneath my clothing, they served only as fuel for the fire that burned inside me.
The heavy steel door on the other side of the partition opened.
Victor was escorted into the room by two armed correctional officers. The change in him was staggering. The tailored Brioni suits and bespoke leather shoes were replaced by a bright orange institutional jumpsuit. His manicured hair was unevenly shaved, his expensive dental veneers dulled, and his shoulder was immobilized in a crude cloth sling.
He slumped onto the metal stool, picking up the heavy black receiver with a trembling hand.
I picked up mine.
"You look well, Victor," I said, my voice smooth and untroubled. "Orange has always brought out your eyes."
Victor slammed his fist against the bulletproof glass, his face contorting into a mask of pure, venomous rage. "You ruined me, you bitch! You took my grandfather's company! You took my money! You froze every offshore account I spent ten years building!"
"Correction, Victor," I replied calmly. "You ruined yourself. You thought you could butcher my body, steal my baby, and throw me away like a piece of used machinery. You underestimated me because you never saw me as a person—only as an accessory to your ambition."
"Celeste won't let you get away with this," he snarled, saliva flecking the glass. "Her lawyers are filing an appeal on her bail conditions. She’ll have my son, and when I get out—"
"Celeste took a plea deal yesterday afternoon, Victor," I interrupted him softly.
Victor froze. The breath left his lungs in a sharp, wheezing gasp. "What?"
"She pleaded guilty to one count of conspiracy to commit wire fraud and one count of accessory after the fact to interstate kidnapping," I said, watching his eyes widen with pure terror. "She agreed to provide full, unredacted testimony against you at your trial next month in exchange for a five-year sentence at a minimum-security facility in West Virginia."
"She... she wouldn't," Victor stammered, shaking his head frantically. "She loves me! She's carrying my son!"
"She loves money, Victor," I smiled, a cold, serene smile. "And once she realized you were broke, you became entirely useless to her. Oh, and one more thing—she signed over full legal rights to her unborn child to an independent guardian ad litem. The child will be placed with a wonderful, vetted adoptive family in Oregon who will raise him far away from your toxic name."
"No!" Victor screamed, jumping up, rattling the heavy chains securing his waist to the floor. "You can't do this! That's an Ashford! That's my blood!"
"There is only one Ashford heir, Victor," I said, leaning closer to the glass. "Arthur Vance Ashford. He weighs twelve pounds now. He has your stubborn chin, but thank God, he has my eyes. And yesterday, the corporate governance committee officially ratified his majority shareholding. When he turns twenty-one, he will control the entire conglomerate."
I stood up, adjusting my gloves.
"You spent your whole life trying to build an empire on lies, Victor. Now you'll spend the next forty years watching my son rule it from a six-by-eight cell. Goodbye."
May you like
I hung up the receiver. Victor threw himself against the glass, screaming obscenities that were muffled by the reinforced pane, pounding his fists until the guards grabbed his arms and forced him down onto the concrete floor.
I turned and walked out of the visiting room without looking back once.
