Chapter 15 - BEHIND BARS
The visitor's room at the Metropolitan Correctional Center smelled of industrial disinfectant, stale coffee, and raw, unfiltered despair. I sat behind the reinforced glass partition, waiting patiently as the heavy metal door at the other end clanked open.
Two guards hauled Ethan into the room, shoving him none too gently into the molded plastic chair opposite my booth. He looked a shadow of his former self. His hair was greasy and uncombed, his orange jumpsuit hung loosely on his frame, and the arrogant, sneering smirk that had defined his entire personality was completely gone, replaced by a hollow, terrified expression.
He picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver with a trembling hand and pressed it to his ear. I slowly lifted mine.
"Evelyn," he whispered, his voice cracking horribly. "Evelyn, please. You have to help me. They’re treating me like an animal in here. They won't listen to me. My lawyer abandoned me. Please... you're my wife. Drop the charges."
I stared at him through the thick, smudged glass, my face a mask of absolute serenity. "Your wife, Ethan? Is that what I am today? Because I distinctly remember you telling three hundred of our closest friends at the charity gala that I was an ugly, dragging anchor."
Ethan flinched as if I had physically struck him. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye, cutting a clean path down his grimy cheek. "I was drunk! I was stupid! People say things they don't mean when they're—"
"When they're drunk, they tell the truth," I interrupted calmly. "You spent four years convincing me I was worthless, Ethan. You brought your mistresses into our bed, you stole my mother’s life's work, and you conspired with your mother to lock me in a loony bin so you could steal my billions."
"I was desperate!" he sobbed, pressing his palms against the glass. "The company was failing! The board was breathing down my neck! I didn't mean for it to go this far!"
"No," I agreed softly. "You just didn't expect me to fight back."
"Evelyn, please!" he wailed, pounding his fist against the partition, causing the guards to immediately step forward with their hands on their batons. "What do you want? My car? My clothes? My soul? Just get me out of here!"
"I don't want anything you have, Ethan," I said, my voice cutting through his hysteria like a scalpel. "Because I already own it all. The house, the company, the patents, your mother's trust, and your freedom. I came here today just to make sure you understood one thing."
Ethan stared at me, his breathing ragged, his eyes wide with terror. "W-what?"
"When you sit in that federal cell for the next twenty years, thinking about how you lost everything," I whispered into the receiver, "remember that it wasn't bad luck. It was me."
May you like
I hung up the phone, stood up smoothing my jacket, and walked out of the visitor's room without looking back once, leaving him sobbing hysterically in the dark, empty booth.
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