Chapter 7
The maximum-security holding block hummed with the low, monotonous drone of heavy ventilation systems. The walls were constructed of reinforced gray concrete, and the heavy iron-barred doors echoed every footstep with a sharp, metallic ring. Arthur Sterling walked down the center aisle, leaning slightly on his cane, yet carrying an air of absolute authority that commanded silence from the surrounding inmates. Marcus walked close behind, acting as both escort and anchor.
They stopped in front of Cell 402. Inside, Thomas Vance sat on a bolted metal bunk, wearing an orange jumpsuit that clashed violently with his usual designer tailoring. His face was swollen on the left side where Marcus had punched him in the garage, and his dark hair was tangled and unkempt. When he looked up and saw Arthur standing outside the bars, the color drained completely from his face.
Thomas stood up slowly, stepping toward the front of the cell. He tried to muster a defiant smirk, but his lips trembled uncontrollably.
“Well, if it isn’t the patriarch,” Thomas muttered, attempting to sound dismissive. “Come to gloat, old man? Or did you finally realize that without me, your entire logistics network will collapse within forty-eight hours?”
Arthur did not raise his voice. He stepped right up to the iron bars, looking into the eyes of the man who had betrayed everything he loved.
“You always overestimated your importance, Thomas,” Arthur said, his tone chillingly level. “You were never the architect of my empire. You were just a parasite that attached itself to the foundation.”
Thomas scoffed, gripping the vertical bars with both hands. “Is that what you think? You think you can just lock me away and pretend none of this happened? I know where all your corporate bodies are buried, Arthur. I have backup files stored off-site that will detonate the moment my legal team files a motion to compel.”
Marcus stepped forward, gripping the bars next to his grandfather. “You’re talking about files that don't exist anymore, Thomas. The federal cyber-crime unit wiped your offshore servers twenty minutes ago. Your backup drives are currently being shredded into plastic confetti.”
Panic flashed across Thomas’s face, replacing his arrogant facade with naked terror. He stepped back from the bars, his chest heaving as he realized his ultimate safety net was gone.
“You’re lying,” Thomas whispered, his voice cracking. “You can’t—that data was encrypted with military-grade protocols!”
“Nothing is encrypted well enough to hide a murder, Thomas,” Arthur said softly, leaning closer to the bars. “Clara talked. She told us everything about Catherine’s final night on the yacht in Greece.”
The silence that followed was heavy and absolute. The ambient hum of the cell block seemed to fade away entirely. Thomas stopped breathing. His eyes darted frantically around the sterile concrete room as if looking for a way to escape through the solid walls.
“She... she lied,” Thomas stammered, his voice losing all its strength. “Clara is a bitter old woman. She’s trying to save her own skin by framing me!”
“Clara is going to prison, too,” Arthur replied coldly. “But she confessed because she couldn't live with the guilt of helping a monster throw my daughter into the dark water.”
Thomas’s knees buckled. He slid down the concrete wall of the cell until he was sitting on the floor, burying his face in his orange-clad arms.
“I had to do it,” Thomas wept hysterically, his voice muffled by his hands. “She was going to ruin everything. She was going to take Lily away from me!”
Arthur looked down at the pathetic figure cowering on the floor, feeling not a shred of pity, only a cold, terminal resolve.
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“You never cared about Lily, Thomas,” Arthur said, turning away from the cell. “You only cared about yourself.”
As Arthur and Marcus began to walk away down the corridor, a sudden, frantic banging echoed behind them from the end of the cell block.
