Chapter 5 - The Phone Call
“You have a collect call from an inmate at the Middlesex County Detention Center,” the automated operator voice droned through the speaker. “To accept charges, press one.”
I pressed the button without hesitation.
“Elena?” Mark’s voice came through the line, but it sounded nothing like the booming, authoritative voice that had terrified me for three years. It was thin, frantic, and echoing with the ambient noise of a jail holding block. “Elena! Thank God! You have to listen to me!”
I didn't say a word. I just listened.
“There’s been a massive misunderstanding,” Mark stammered, talking so fast he was tripping over his words. “The police... they completely blew this out of proportion! They have me in a cell with four other guys, Elena! They took my suit, my shoes—they won't even let me call my bank!”
“Hello, Mark,” I said calmly.
“Elena, baby, listen to me!” Mark pleaded, his tone shifting into the manipulative warmth he used whenever he wanted something. “I know I lost my temper yesterday. I was stressed about work, the market was crashing, and I drank too much at the barbecue. You know how I get when I’m overwhelmed! It was a mistake, an awful, stupid mistake, and I am so, so sorry.”
In the background of the call, someone shouted at Mark to keep it down, followed by the clanging of heavy iron bars.
“You dragged me behind a car, Mark,” I said, my voice ice cold. “You locked me in a closet for eight hours.”
“I was trying to scare you into seeing reason!” Mark cried out. “I was trying to protect our family! All this talk about the trust money—it was an investment, Elena! I put that money into high-yield funds to secure our future! If these lawyers keep digging, they’re going to freeze everything, and we’ll lose the house! We’ll lose everything we worked for!”
“We didn't work for anything, Mark,” I corrected him. “My father worked for that money. I lost the use of my legs in a car crash you caused, and you spent three years stealing the settlement meant to pay for my care.”
Silence fell on the line for three long seconds.
When Mark spoke again, the fake remorse vanished entirely. His tone dropped back into the dark, threatening register I knew all too well.
“You think you’re smart, don't you?” Mark sneered. “You think because you got some cheap lawyer and your pathetic little friends to take a video that you’ve won? I made you, Elena! Before me, you were sitting in a wheelchair weeping in your parents' spare bedroom! I took you in! I gave you a life! You’re nothing without me!”
Victoria leaned over, pointing at her phone, which was recording the call, and gave me a nod.
“I was in a wheelchair because you drove my car into a concrete divider while your blood alcohol level was twice the legal limit,” I said, ensuring every word was enunciated clearly. “And as for being nothing without you... I’m standing on my own two feet for the first time in three years, Mark. Even if my legs don't work.”
“You’ll drop the charges,” Mark growled, his voice rising in panic again. “You’ll drop the charges and tell the DA it was a domestic dispute that we’re handling privately, or I swear to God, Elena, I will make sure you don't get a single cent of that inheritance! I’ll burn the accounts to the ground before I let you have them!”
“You can’t burn what’s already frozen, Mark,” Victoria spoke up loudly into the microphone. “This is Victoria Vance. I am Mrs. Miller’s lead attorney. This call is being recorded by the District Attorney’s office, and your explicit admission of extortion and asset destruction will be presented to Judge Callahan at your bail review hearing tomorrow morning.”
Mark gasped sharply on the other end of the line. “What—who is—Elena, who is that? Don't let her talk to me like that!”
“Goodbye, Mark,” I said softly.
“Elena! Don't you dare hang up on me! ELENA—!”
I tapped the red button, ending the call.
The quiet room felt lighter instantly.
Allison let out a long breath, wiping a tear from her cheek. “He’s completely insane.”
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“No,” Victoria said, shutting down her recording app. “He’s not insane. He’s a narcissist who just realized he’s no longer the smartest person in the room. And tomorrow morning, in Courtroom 3B, we’re going to make sure he stays in that cell until his trial.”
I looked out the window at the morning sky. The sun was rising higher, casting bright, warm light across the city. For the first time since the accident, I felt no fear of what tomorrow would bring.
