Chapter 10
The visiting room of the federal detention center smelled of cheap disinfectant, damp concrete, and unwashed anxiety. Fluorescent tubes flickered overhead with an irritating, high-pitched buzz that seemed to drill directly into the skull. Richard Vance sat on the opposite side of the scratched Plexiglas barrier, wearing a standard-issue orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on his once-impeccable frame. The sharp, tailored dark suit was gone, replaced by the humiliating uniform of an inmate awaiting arraignment on multiple felony counts of fraud, perjury, and conspiracy.
His dark hair was uncombed, and deep, purple shadows bruised the skin beneath his eyes. The easy, arrogant smile that had defined his public persona was completely erased, replaced by a desperate, twitchy twitch in his jaw.
When Elena walked into the secure booth and sat down on the metal stool, Richard’s head snapped up. For a fraction of a second, a flash of his old haughtiness sparked in his eyes, but it vanished instantly when he saw the calm, unyielding expression on her face. He picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver with a trembling hand, pressing it against his ear. Elena mirrored his movement, lifting her own receiver, though she left a deliberate three-inch gap of air between them.
"Elena," Richard rasped, his voice lacking its customary resonance, sounding thin and brittle in the acoustic confines of the booth. "You have to listen to me. This has gone too far. The prosecutors are twisting standard corporate restructuring into criminal enterprise. If you call off your forensic team, we can settle this quietly. You get the house, full custody, and a lump sum—"
"There is nothing to settle, Richard," Elena interrupted, her voice entirely devoid of anger, which seemed to terrify him more than a scream ever could. "The forensic team already has the ledgers. The offshore accounts are frozen. The federal prosecutor isn't listening to restructuring arguments; they're looking at a ten-year minimum for wire fraud and perjury."
Richard slammed his palm against the Plexiglas, a pathetic echo of his courtroom outburst. A nearby guard stepped forward immediately, placing a hand on his utility belt with a warning glare. Richard swallowed hard, pulling his hand back as his chest heaved beneath the coarse orange fabric.
"You don't understand what you're destroying," Richard hissed through the small metal speaker grille, his voice dropping to a desperate, venomous whisper. "I built those portfolios. Without my management, that estate is worth nothing. I protected you—"
"You tried to erase me," Elena said softly, her eyes locking onto his with absolute clarity. "You used my grief as a weapon to steal my child and rob my home. And the most terrifying part, Richard, is that you did it with a smile on your face."
May you like
She didn't wait for him to reply. She placed the receiver back onto its cradle with a sharp, definitive click. Richard pressed his face against the glass, shouting words that were swallowed by the hum of the intercom and the indifferent steel of the facility. Elena stood up, smoothed down her dark shirt, and walked out of the room without looking back once.
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