Chapter 4 - The Cell Block Visitor
Three days later, I walked into the visitor center at the Eric M. Taylor Center on Rikers Island.
The heavy iron door clicked shut behind me. I sat down on one side of the scratched glass partition, wearing a simple navy wool coat, my silver wedding ring noticeably absent from my finger.
A minute later, the heavy metal door on the inmate side opened.
Flynn was pushed into the room by a corrections officer.
The transformation was horrific. The bespoke Tom Ford suits were gone, replaced by a drab, oversized grey jumpsuit. His hair was messy, his jaw covered in three days of dark stubble, and his eyes were hollow, red-rimmed, and wild with insomnia.
When he saw me sitting behind the glass, he rushed to the metal chair, practically falling into it, and grabbed the plastic telephone receiver with two shaking hands.
I slowly picked up my receiver, holding it to my ear.
“Mabel! Oh God, Mabel!” Flynn’s voice exploded through the earpiece, shrill, distorted, and cracking with desperate sobs. “You came! Thank God you came! Mabel, you have to get me out of here! This place... it’s a nightmare! They put me in a cell with murderers! I can’t sleep! I haven’t eaten in three days!”
I stared at him through the glass. No anger, no tears. Just absolute silence.
“Mabel, please talk to me!” he wept, slamming his hand against the glass. “I talked to my lawyers! They said if you drop the criminal charges, the DA will let me post bail! We can go away! We can go to Switzerland! We can try again, Mabel! We can have another baby!”
The moment those words escaped his mouth—“We can have another baby”—a frost so deep settled over my soul that I felt my heart rate slow to a calm, steady rhythm.
“You killed them, Flynn,” I said softly.
Flynn flinched as if I had struck him across the face. “It was an accident! I thought she was hurt! I lost control!”
“You didn't lose control,” I replied smoothly. “You made a choice. You chose a woman who scratched herself with a key in an elevator over the wife who spent three years building your life.”
Flynn froze, his eyes widening in confusion. “What... what do you mean, scratched herself?”
“Selina framed me,” I said, leaning closer to the glass. “She staged the entire incident. She knew I was pregnant, Flynn. She saw the prescription prenatal vitamins in my bathroom two weeks ago during your birthday party. She staged that fight so you would attack me, kill my baby, and get locked away so she could take your money.”
“No...” Flynn shook his head frantically, his voice dropping into denial. “No! Selina loves me! She’s been staying at the St. Regis, praying for me every day! She told me she’s hiring the best lawyers for my defense!”
“Selina spent eighty thousand dollars of Vance Global’s funds yesterday at a jewelry store on Madison Avenue,” I revealed, pulling a printed transaction ledger from my coat and holding it against the glass. “She’s sleeping with Victor Thorne—the CEO of your primary competitor. She’s been selling Vance Global’s trade secrets for six months.”
Flynn stared at the paper held against the glass. His eyes read the transaction timestamps, the authorization codes, and the recipient names.
The illusion he had built his entire life around—his pure, golden childhood sweetheart—shattered into millions of sharp, bloody pieces right before his eyes.
“She... she lied to me?” Flynn whispered, his voice cracking into a high-pitched whimper. “She didn't love me?”
“She never loved you, Flynn,” I said, lowering the paper. “And now, neither do I.”
I stood up from the metal chair, setting the phone receiver back onto its hook.
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“Mabel! Don't leave me!” Flynn screamed, pounding his fists frantically against the glass until the corrections officer grabbed his arms, forcing him back. “Mabel! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please!”
I walked out of the visitor center without looking back once.
