Chapter 6 - Behind Bars
The visiting room of the Suffolk County House of Correction smelled of industrial floor wax, stale coffee, and quiet despair.
Grant sat on the bolted metal stool behind the thick plexiglass partition, staring down at his orange jumpsuit with sunken, bloodshot eyes. The arrogant, self-assured smirk that had defined his entire life was completely gone.
The heavy steel door at the end of the room clicked open.
I walked in, wearing a tailored charcoal wool coat, accompanied by a single security operative who stood quietly by the entrance.
Grant’s head snapped up. When he saw me—glowing, calm, and visibly heavily pregnant—a pathetic, desperate light flickered in his eyes. He scrambled off his stool, pressing his face against the plexiglass partition.
“Clara! Oh, thank God!” Grant choked out, his voice cracking into a ragged sob. “You came. You came to bail me out, right? My lawyer said the bail is set at two million, but with your money—with Vale Meridian—you can pay it instantly! Please, Clara. Mother is living in a cramped two-bedroom apartment across town; she’s sick, she can’t handle this. I’ll sign whatever divorce papers you want. Just get me out of here.”
I stopped in front of the partition, slowly removing my gloves. I looked at him—really looked at him—not with anger, nor with hatred, but with the cold, detached pity one might reserve for an insect.
“Bail you out, Grant?” I asked quietly.
“Yes! Please! We have a baby on the way! Don’t you care about our family?”
“When you stood in that ballroom and watched your mother applaud while you punched me in the stomach—when you told me your mistress’s child was the ‘real heir’—did you care about our family then?”
Grant froze. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
“You thought you were untouchable,” I continued, leaning slightly closer to the glass. “You thought my work was a joke. You thought you could treat me like disposable trash because you had a famous last name. You forgot that the name on the deed, the stock certificates, and the foundation of everything you ever touched was Victoria.”
“I was stupid!” Grant wept, sliding down the plexiglass until he hit the floor, burying his face in his hands. “Kelsey left me the day after the arrest! She took whatever cash she could steal and ran off to Miami! I have nothing, Clara! Absolutely nothing!”
“No,” I corrected him softly, turning toward the exit. “You have exactly what you built.”
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“Clara! Don’t leave me here! CLARA!”
I didn't look back. I turned on my heel, the sharp click of my heels echoing off the concrete floor, and walked out through the heavy steel doors into the bright, uncompromising sunlight of the afternoon.
