flash
"I am," Richard said. The two words sounded small in the high-ceilinged bedroom, but they carried a weight that made the silence between father and son ring like struck glass. / Chapter 7 / 8

Chapter 7 - The Final Confrontation

Three weeks later.

The high-security visitor room at the Cook County Department of Corrections was cold, smelling of cheap floor cleaner and stale coffee.

Richard sat on one side of a thick glass partition. He was dressed in a casual sweater, looking healthier, rester, and younger than he had in a decade.

On the other side of the glass sat Cassandra Vale.

She was unrecognizable. The emerald gowns and diamond earrings were gone, replaced by a dingy orange jumpsuit. Her hair was unwashed and pulled back into a messy knot. Her face was hollow, her eyes dark with fury and bitterness.

She picked up the plastic telephone receiver. Richard picked up his.

"Did you come to gloat?" Cassandra sneered through the glass, her voice harsh and raspy. "To see the woman who ruined your perfect life?"

"No," Richard said calmly. "I came to deliver a message."

"I don't care about your messages!" Cassandra spat into the receiver. "Arthur’s lawyers are taking the fall! I was just a pawn! I didn't cut Clara’s brakes! I didn't launder the money! My attorney says I’ll be out on probation in two years for the child endangerment charges!"

Richard let out a small, quiet laugh. It wasn't a bitter laugh; it was a laugh of pure pity.

"You really don't know what’s happened outside, do you?" Richard asked.

Cassandra frowned, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What are you talking about?"

"Yesterday," Richard explained, leaning closer to the glass, "the Federal prosecutor added sixteen counts of felony wire fraud, conspiracy to commit murder, and grand larceny to your indictment. Julian Vance turned State's evidence against both you and Arthur. You aren't getting probation, Cassandra. You’re looking at thirty-five years without parole."

Cassandra’s hand began to shake on the telephone receiver. "No... no, that’s impossible! Arthur promised—"

"Arthur is in a federal holding facility in Indiana, facing life in prison," Richard interrupted smoothly. "He sold you out two days ago to try and save his own skin. He gave the prosecutors the recorded phone calls where you bragged about keeping Ethan weak so he wouldn't tell me about the financial discrepancies."

Cassandra slammed her free hand against the glass. "You ruined my life! I gave you four years! I made you look good! I kept your house running! You were nothing without me!"

"I was blind without you," Richard corrected softly. "There’s a difference."

He stood up, looking down at the woman who had brought so much nightmare into his house.

"The house in Lincoln Park is sold," Richard continued. "I sold it yesterday. Every piece of furniture you chose, every painting you bought, every plate you served food on... it’s all gone. Burnt or auctioned off. The proceeds went into a trust fund for children who survive domestic abuse."

Cassandra wept tears of rage, her shoulders shaking under the orange jumpsuit. "You took everything from me!"

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"You took my wife, and you tried to take my son," Richard said, his voice dropping into a final, unyielding judgment. "You're lucky I'm letting the law handle you."

Richard hung up the phone receiver, turned his back on her, and walked out of the visitor room, leaving her screaming behind the reinforced glass until the guards forced her back into her cell.

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