Chapter 4: Behind Iron Bars
The visitor room at the county jail was cold and oppressive. Mark sat across from his mother behind a thick sheet of plexiglass. Eleanor wore an orange jumpsuit, her blonde hair unwashed, her eyes sunken and rimmed with red.
“Mark, you have to get me out of here,” Eleanor begged, her hands slapping against the glass. “They’re treating me like a criminal! That woman took what was rightfully mine! That was your father’s money!”
Mark looked at the woman who had raised him, feeling an overwhelming mix of pity and disgust. “Dad left that money to help orphaned children, Mom. He knew what you would do with it. And because of your paranoia, you almost killed Clara and your granddaughter.”
“Granddaughter?” Eleanor froze, her aggressive stance wavering for a fraction of a second.
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“She’s in an incubator, fighting for every breath because you hit Clara with an iron bar,” Mark said, his tone icy and detached. “You didn’t just assault a stranger, Mom. You tried to destroy your own blood.”
Eleanor sank back into her chair, her lips quivering, but her pride refused to let her weep. Mark picked up the phone handset, spoke five final words—“May God forgive you, Mom”—and walked away.
