Chapter 8 - The Price of Treason
The heavy steel doors of the federal holding facility in Columbia closed with a loud, metallic CLANG.
Six months had passed since that fateful day in the chancery court.
Inside a small, fluorescent-lit attorney-client visitation room, Ryan Bennett sat behind a thick plexiglass window, wearing an orange federal inmate jumpsuit.
His hair was buzzed short, his designer suits replaced by coarse cotton, his refined culinary hands now calloused from prison labor.
Standing on the other side of the glass was his public defender, a tired-looking young attorney holding a plea bargain document.
"Mr. Bennett," the attorney said through the small intercom speaker. "The Department of Justice has finalized the terms of your plea deal for Federal Wire Fraud, Tax Evasion, and Interstate Transport of Stolen Property."
Ryan looked down at his chained wrists. "How long?"
"Seven years in a medium-security federal correctional facility," the attorney revealed flatly. "Plus full restitution of $1.2 million to Hawthorne Hospitality. Because you spent $400,000 of the money Sterling paid you on luxury items and legal fees, the court has seized all your remaining bank accounts, your sports car, and your private pension."
"What about Brooke?" Ryan asked, his voice completely dead.
"Miss Sullivan pleaded guilty last week," the lawyer replied. "She received four years in exchange for testifying against you. She blamed the entire embezzlement scheme on your instructions."
Ryan let out a dry, bitter laugh, resting his forehead against the cool glass.
He had thought he was the master manipulator. He had believed he could abuse his wife, steal her company, flaunt his mistress in her face, and walk away a millionaire.
Instead, he was sitting in a federal prison cell with nothing to his name except an orange jumpsuit and seven years of concrete walls.
"Does... does Eleanor ever ask about me?" Ryan whispered pathetically.
The attorney looked at his notes, then looked up at Ryan with a cold, professional indifference.
"Mrs. Bennett didn't even attend your sentencing hearing, Mr. Bennett," the attorney said. "She was in New York expanding her company."
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Ryan closed his eyes as tears finally tracked down his hollow cheeks.
The woman he had struck with a serving spoon, the woman he had tried to relegate to the guest room of her own house, had completely erased him from her world. He wasn't even a memory worth hating anymore. He was simply nothing.
