Chapter 7 - THE VISITING ROOM
The federal detention center was cold, gray, and smelled heavily of industrial bleach.
I sat on one side of a thick glass partition in the small visitor room. A minute later, the heavy metal door on the opposite side buzzed open, and a female guard led my mother into the room.
Evelyn looked unrecognizable. Her polished hair was tied back in a messy bun, her emerald silk dress had been replaced by a coarse orange jumpsuit, and the arrogant tilt of her chin was completely gone. She looked old, fragile, and utterly broken.
She sat down heavily on the stool, picking up the yellow plastic telephone receiver. I picked up mine.
"Are you happy now, Nora?" she asked, her voice crackling through the receiver, thin and raspy. "You have us in cages. Is this the revenge you wanted?"
"I never wanted revenge, Mother," I said softly. "I wanted my father's memory respected. I wanted my rightful work protected. And I wanted you to treat me like a daughter instead of an enemy."
Evelyn let out a bitter, dry laugh. "You were always so much like Arthur. Cold, analytical, always keeping records, always judging me."
"Dad didn't judge you," I replied. "He spent his life providing for you. But he knew what you were capable of when money was involved. That's why he created the trust the way he did."
Evelyn pressed her forehead against the glass, tears finally spilling down her hollow cheeks. "Celeste is hysterical down in cell block B. She can't handle this, Nora. And Leo... they put Leo in child protective services because neither of us could post bail!"
My heart pinched at the mention of my eight-month-old nephew. "Leo is safe. Marcus and I filed emergency family custody papers this morning. He's staying with a licensed foster family in a quiet home until the guardianship hearing next week."
Evelyn looked up, her eyes wide with desperate hope. "You took care of Leo?"
"Of course I did," I said sharply. "Unlike you and Celeste, I don't use a baby as a weapon or a photo-op. He deserves a clean life far away from this corruption."
"Nora..." Evelyn wept, placing her shaking hand flat against the glass divider. "Please. Use Arthur's trust to pay our bail. We will sign over everything. Every property, every patent, every penny. Just don't leave us in here."
I looked at the hand of the woman who had spent three years trying to convince the world I was crazy—the woman who had smashed my computer with a smile on her face.
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"You'll get a fair trial, Mother," I said calmly. "Which is far more mercy than you ever gave me."
I hung up the phone, stood up, and walked out of the room, ignoring the desperate pounding of her hand against the glass behind me.
