Chapter 8 - The Confrontation in Holding
The federal holding facility in downtown Baltimore was cold, sterile, and smelled faintly of industrial disinfectant.
I walked down the gleaming linoleum corridor flanked by a federal guard, stopping in front of visiting booth number four. Behind the reinforced glass sat Garrett Sterling.
Gone was the tailored Brioni suit, the slicked-back hair, and the arrogant, condescending smirk that had defined our three years of marriage. He wore an orange jumpsuit several sizes too large, his shoulders slumped, his eyes hollow and bloodshot from sleepless nights in a maximum-security cell.
I picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver. After a moment’s hesitation, Garrett lifted his own receiver, pressing it against his ear. His lips parted, trembling slightly.
"Rosalind..." his voice rasped through the speaker, pathetic and desperate. "Rosalind, please. You have to listen to me. I was pressured by my father. He threatened to cut me off, to disown me if I didn't infiltrate your family. I never wanted to hurt you—"
"Stop talking, Garrett," I said. My voice was calm, devoid of anger, which seemed to terrify him more than a scream ever could.
"I loved you, Rosalind! At least... parts of it were real!" he pleaded, pressing his palm against the glass partition. "We can make a deal. My lawyers say if you sign an affidavit stating the marriage was consensual and there was no coercion—"
"My lawyers say you’re looking at consecutive federal sentences totaling forty-five years," I interrupted smoothly. "And Penelope is already testifying about how you laughed while watching my car sink into the Savannah River."
Garrett flinched as if struck by a physical blow. A tear carved a dirty track down his cheek. "You're going to let them put me away for the rest of my life?"
"I'm not letting them do anything, Garrett. The law is simply catching up with you," I replied, staring directly into his panicked, desperate eyes. "You spent three years pouring lead acetate into my milk, whispering sweet lies while planning my murder so you could steal my parents' legacy. You thought I was weak. You thought women like me were meant to be managed, poisoned, and discarded."
I paused, leaning slightly closer to the glass.
May you like
"You forgot one simple rule of the maritime world, Garrett," I whispered into the receiver. "Never underestimate someone who knows how to survive a shipwreck."
Without waiting for his reply, I hung the receiver back on its cradle. I turned away from the booth, walked down the sterile corridor, and stepped out into the bright Baltimore sunlight, leaving my former husband behind in the dark where he belonged.
