Chapter 6
The holding facility downtown was cold, smelling of industrial cleaner and stale coffee. Beatrice Sterling sat rigidly behind the reinforced glass partition, her posture as straight as a bayonet despite wearing the drab orange jumpsuit of a federal inmate. Her white hair, usually meticulously styled, fell loosely around her weathered face. When Clara entered the secure visitation booth and sat down on the metal stool, Beatrice did not look away. She stared through the glass with eyes that had commanded battalions, though they now burned with quiet fury.
Clara picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver, watching Beatrice slowly raise her own.
"You think you've won something, don't you?" Beatrice's voice crackled through the speaker, devoid of warmth but laced with a chilling detachment. "You've dismantled a company that kept this nation's defense apparatus running for a century. Without our logistics contracts, supply chains will fracture across three continents within a month. You haven't served justice, Clara. You've exposed a vulnerability you don't even begin to understand."
"I exposed criminals who hid behind uniforms to steal from the people they swore to protect," Clara replied evenly, her voice calm and measured. "Supply chains can be rebuilt with integrity. What you built was built on the graves of soldiers who deserved better equipment and honest leadership."
Beatrice scoffed softly, a bitter sound that held no humor. "Honor is a luxury for people who don't have to make hard choices in dark rooms. Your husband understood that before he let his idealism cloud his judgment. He was weak, just like you."
Clara gripped the plastic receiver tightly, her knuckles whitening, but she refused to let the general's psychological warfare pierce her armor. "David died because he had a conscience, something this family tried and failed to beat out of him. And Julian? Julian is currently cooperating with federal prosecutors in exchange for a reduced sentence. Your favorite grandson traded you out within forty-eight hours of the arrest."
A flicker of genuine shock crossed Beatrice's face before her impenetrable mask slammed back down. The betrayal by Julian hit harder than any federal indictment. The dynasty she had sacrificed everything to preserve had turned on itself the moment the pressure mounted.
"He's a coward," Beatrice whispered, the realization tasting like ash in her mouth.
May you like
"He's a Sterling," Clara said quietly. "He learned from the best."
Clara placed the receiver back onto its cradle, ending the call before Beatrice could formulate another retort. She stood up, smoothing her blazer, and walked out of the visitation room without looking back. The psychological hold the Sterling family had maintained over her life for ten years was finally broken. There were no more threats to fear, no more secrets to hide, and no more ghosts haunting the grand halls of an estate that no longer mattered.
