Chapter 8 - BEHIND GLASS
The visiting room at the county detention center smelled of cheap disinfectant and stale floor wax.
I sat on one side of the reinforced Plexiglas partition, my hands resting flat on the stainless-steel counter. A few seconds later, the heavy metal door on the opposite side clicked open, and Chloe was escorted in by a female guard.
She wore an orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on her frame. Her hair was unwashed, pulled back into a messy bun without makeup, stripping away the polished, untouchable aura she had worn her entire life. But the defiant sneer on her lips remained entirely intact.
She sat down heavily on the metal stool, picked up the plastic telephone receiver, and glared at me through the glass. I picked up mine.
"You look pathetic, Ryan," Chloe's voice crackled through the speaker, distorted by static. "Sitting there looking like a martyr while your own family burns to the ground."
"You tried to kill my wife, Chloe," I said, my voice dead calm. "And you nearly killed my daughter. You belong in this cell."
Chloe let out a sharp, barking laugh. "Kill her? Please. I just gave her a little nudge. She’s always been so dramatic about everything. And as for the brat—well, premature babies have a high mortality rate anyway. It would have solved everyone's problems."
The casual cruelty in her voice sent a cold spike of fury through my veins, but I forced myself not to snap. I needed to see how far down the rabbit hole she went.
"Dad can't save you this time, Chloe," I said quietly. "His accounts are frozen. His corporate partners are cutting ties. By the end of the week, the federal indictments for the embezzlement scheme will drop."
Chloe’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second—a tiny crack in her armor—before she masked it with an arrogant grin. "You think Dad goes down alone? You think he didn't cover his tracks across three different offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands? You don't know half of what Dad has on people in high places, Ryan. Judges, politicians, district attorneys—they all owe him favors."
"They won't owe him anything when he's sitting in a federal penitentiary facing twenty years for financial fraud and accessory to attempted murder," I replied.
Chloe leaned forward against the glass, pressing her face close to the partition. Her eyes narrowed into slits. "You think Emily is innocent in all this? You think she just happened to 'stumble' into Dad's safe? She was digging for dirt from day one. She wanted to cut me and Mom out of the inheritance so she could have everything for herself and her bastard baby."
"She found out your father was stealing corporate pension funds to finance your lifestyle," I shot back. "You live in a fantasy world, Chloe. You've never worked a day in your life, you've never faced a single consequence for your actions, and now the bill has come due."
Chloe’s face twisted in rage. She slammed the plastic receiver against the glass partition. "I hope she dies! I hope she rots in that hospital bed, and I hope your little freak of a baby stops breathing in the NICU!"
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The guard immediately stepped forward, grabbing Chloe by the shoulder and hauling her up from the stool. "Visit's over," the guard barked, dragging Chloe toward the heavy metal exit door as she screamed obscenities, kicking her legs against the steel frame until the door slammed shut.
I slowly hung up the phone receiver, my hands shaking slightly. The monster I had grown up with wasn't a stranger; she was a product of a family that had never taught her the difference between wanting something and deserving it.
