Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Alden
With Marissa exposed and arrested, the house of cards Blake had built completely collapsed.
The public perception reversed overnight. The media hailed the unmasking of the healthcare fraud as one of the most incredible acts of motherly protection and corporate justice in recent history. Stock prices for Alden Biotech soared to an all-time high as investors rallied around my leadership and the integrity of my father's original vision.
Three weeks later, I sat in a private consultation room at the county correctional facility.
Sitting across from me, behind a thick pane of bulletproof glass, was Blake.
He was wearing an orange jumpsuit, his hands cuffed to a waist belt. His hair was messy, his face was gaunt, and he looked fifteen years older than he had a month ago. He was no longer the arrogant, commanding man who had demanded I come home and cook dinner for his mistress. He was a broken, pitiful shell.
He picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver on his side of the glass. I picked up mine.
"Grace," Blake whispered, his voice trembling, tears leaking down his hollow cheeks. "Please... you have to help me. The public defender they gave me is useless. The federal prosecutor is pushing for twenty-five years in maximum security. Grace... twenty-five years... I'll die in there."
I listened to him, feeling no anger, no hatred, no desire for revenge. I felt only a profound, quiet emptiness where my love for him used to be.
"You made your choices, Blake," I said softly through the phone.
"I was stupid, Grace! Marissa manipulated me! She seduced me years ago, she tricked me into thinking we could build an empire together!" Blake wept, pressing his forehead against the glass. "I loved you, Grace! I always loved you and Rosie! Please, use your lawyers... tell the judge you forgive me! Tell them it was a misunderstanding!"
"You let Rosie's oxygen alarm scream, Blake," I reminded him quietly. "You told me to come home, cook dinner, and apologize to the woman who called my four-year-old child a 'brat' who deserved to suffer."
Blake flinched as if I had struck him across the face.
"I am filing the final divorce decree today," I continued, pulling a document from my purse and pressing it against the glass. "You will surrender all parental rights to Rosie. You will surrender all claims to the house, the estate, and my father's company. In exchange, I will not file a private civil suit for damages against your remaining personal bank accounts."
"Grace... please... don't take my daughter away from me..." Blake sobbed, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
"You threw her away for a bottle of stolen skin cream, Blake," I said, my voice as firm as granite. "You are no longer her father. You are just a cautionary tale she will read about when she grows up."
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I set the divorce papers on the counter for his attorney to process, hung up the phone, and stood up.
As I walked toward the exit door, Blake pounded his cuffed hands against the bulletproof glass, screaming my name, his desperate cries fading into nothingness as the heavy steel doors slid shut behind me.
