Chapter 9 - The Ghost of the Past
The harsh glow of the prison fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting sickly shadows across the gray concrete walls of the visitor’s annex. Julián Robles sat on the bolted metal stool, his fingers twitching nervously against the smooth surface of the table. The bespoke navy blazer was long gone, replaced by an oversized, coarse orange jumpsuit bearing the bold black lettering of the county detention center. He had lost weight; his cheeks were hollow, and the arrogant confidence that had once defined his posture had collapsed into a bitter, hunted slouch.
The heavy steel door at the end of the hall rattled, and a guard escorted a visitor inside.
Julián’s head snapped up, a pathetic flicker of hope igniting in his chest. For a fleeting second, he thought—he desperately hoped—it might be Mariana, or perhaps even his mother coming to soften their stance after weeks of silence. But the sharp click of heels against the floor belonged to someone else entirely.
It was Vanessa Vance.
She looked a shadow of her former self. Her designer camel-colored coat was gone, replaced by a cheap, plain gray hoodie. Her immaculate blonde hair was tied back in a messy, unwashed ponytail, and her face was entirely devoid of makeup, exposing dark, bruised circles under her eyes. She didn't look like a high-flying corporate director accustomed to luxury dining and executive perks; she looked like a cornered animal staring down the barrel of a federal indictment.
Vanessa pulled out the opposite stool with a harsh scrape of metal and dropped onto it, her eyes blazing with a furious, venomous hatred that instantly wiped away any pretense of affection.
"You," Vanessa hissed, her voice vibrating with suppressed rage. "This is all your fault."
Julián flinched, leaning forward over the steel table. "My fault? My fault?! You were the one who insisted we set up the shell company through VaneCorp! You were the one who pushed me to drain the accounts before the quarterly audit!"
"Because you promised me it was foolproof!" Vanessa shrieked, slamming her palms flat against the table so hard that the heavy security glass vibrated. A nearby guard immediately stepped forward, placing a hand on his utility belt, and Vanessa forced herself to drop her voice to a venomous whisper, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "You told me your family was completely out of the picture, that your wife was a pushover, and that your mother lived forty miles away and never interfered in your business! And yet, the exact night we pull up to the house, your mother is standing on the porch like a judge in a murder trial!"
Julián slumped back, running a trembling hand over his face. The memory of that night—the cold wind, his mother’s unyielding gaze, and the heavy leather briefcase snatched right out of Mariana's hands—felt like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
"She changed," Julián muttered, his voice cracking with self-pity. "My mother was never like that. She always protected me. She paid my tuition, she backed my first business venture, she always took my side..."
"Well, she stopped taking your side the moment you decided to starve her grandchildren," Vanessa snapped, her lips curling into a bitter sneer. "My defense attorney called me this morning. The federal prosecutor isn't offering a plea deal. They have the wire transfer logs, the forged invoice templates, and the corporate emails matching your IP address. We are looking at five to seven years minimum in a federal penitentiary."
Julián stared at her blankly, the full weight of the prison sentence finally crashing down upon his chest. "Five years..." he whispered. "I'll lose everything. My stock options, my credit score, my reputation..."
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"You already lost it, Julián," Vanessa said coldly, standing up and pushing her stool back with a sharp screech against the floor. She looked down at him with absolute, unadulterated disgust. "And the worst part is? Your mother and your wife are sitting in a warm, paid-off house right now, dividing up what's left of your empire, while we rot in cages. Don't ever look at me again."
With that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving Julián alone in the silence of his own ruin.
