Chapter 17 - The Bankrupt King’s Last Stand Headline: "Grant Stole a Prison Guard's Phone to Make One Last Call—And Lost His Mind Completely!"
Inside the cold, windowless solitary block of Pelican Bay Supermax, Grant Vance had lost all sense of time.
His clothes were rough grey wool, his hair was shorn to the scalp, and his hands were raw from cell inspections. He had spent two weeks in complete silence, broken only by the echo of distant metal doors slamming shut.
During a routine cell transfer to the infirmary, Grant spotted a momentary lapse in security. A distracted guard had left a personal smartphone charging on the nurse’s station desk.
Driven by a feverish, insane impulse, Grant darted across the room, snatched the phone, and locked himself inside the infirmary supply closet.
With shaking, bloody fingers, he dialed the only number he still knew by heart—my private mobile number.
Back in Seattle, I was sitting in the sunny garden terrace of the estate, watching Maya take her very first steps across the green grass. Noah was sitting beside me, laughing as Maya reached for his hands.
My phone rang. The screen displayed: UNKNOWN PRISON FACILITY.
I answered, placing it on speaker. "Hello?"
"Emma! Emma, it's me! Don't hang up!" Grant's voice screamed through the speaker, raspy, frantic, and barely recognizable.
Noah’s hand instantly hovered near the phone, but I held up a finger, keeping my voice completely calm. "Grant."
"Emma, you have to help me!" he sobbed hysterically. "They put me in solitary! My uncle Victor is in a prison hospital, Harrison was arrested, and Vanessa turned state's evidence! Everything is gone! My family has nothing left!"
"I know, Grant," I said softly, watching Maya giggling as she grabbed Noah's necktie. "I took it all."
"Why?!" Grant shrieked into the phone, the sound of guards trying to break down the supply closet door echoing in the background. "We were married! I loved you!"
"You didn't love me, Grant," I said, my voice ringing with absolute, icy clarity. "You loved what I could do for your ego. You left me bleeding on a sidewalk for leather seats and a fake empire. Today, my daughter walked for the first time. She has a real home, a real name, and a real father who would tear the world down to protect her."
On the other end of the phone, heavy thuds boomed as the guards shattered the closet door.
"Emma! Please! Just say you forgive me! Tell me you remember our wedding day!" Grant screamed, his voice breaking into wild, pathetic weeping.
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"I remember the rain, Grant," I replied quietly. "And I remember who picked me up."
I tapped the red button, ending the call forever, and blocked the number.
