Chapter 23 - THE WHISPER IN THE CELL BLOCKBack in the maximum-security wing, the heavy steel door of Roman’s cell slammed shut with a concussive thud that rattled his teeth. The digital video link terminal had already been disconnected by the guards.
Roman slumped against the cold concrete wall, his breathing ragged and shallow. The courtroom defeat wasn't just a legal loss; it was the absolute destruction of his last remaining fantasy. For five years, he had convinced himself in the dark silence of his cell that he was a victim of a conspiracy, that if he could just get before a judge, the world would see how Mara had wronged him.
Instead, the entire courtroom had watched her dismantle his delusions in less than ten minutes.
Footsteps echoed down the concrete corridor. A heavy pair of boots stopped outside Cell 488. Roman didn't look up. He assumed it was the guard coming to strip his cell or deliver the tasteless evening meal.
"You really thought you could win against her, didn't you, Vale?" a raspy voice murmured from the shadows of the bars.
Roman slowly raised his head. Standing in the corridor was a newly transferred inmate—a tall, heavily tattooed man with sharp, calculating eyes who had been observing Roman from across the yard for weeks. His name was Viktor Kane, a former international logistics fixer who knew how empires fell from the inside out.
"Get away from my cell," Roman rasped, his voice cracked and weak.
Viktor chuckled, leaning his forearms against the cold iron bars. "I watched your little video hearing on the dayroom monitor today, Roman. It was pathetic. You're fighting with legal motions like a drowning man clutching at air, while your ex-wife owns half the commercial real estate downtown and runs a global philanthropic empire."
"What do you want, Viktor?" Roman spat bitterly.
"I want to make a proposal," Viktor said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You want revenge. You want to see her beautiful glass towers come crashing down the way yours did. And I happen to have friends outside who owe me favors—people who specialize in digital sabotage that forensic auditors can't trace. But it's going to cost you."
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Roman stared at him, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Cost me what? I have nothing left. I'm locked in a concrete box for the next ten years!"
"Not true," Viktor smiled, revealing a glint of gold in his back teeth. "You still have your name, your residual corporate shares that haven't been fully liquidated in the foreign trusts, and a very dark secret about Mara’s family background that you haven't told a single soul."
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