My face stung, a deep, throbbing heat radiating across my jawline, but I didn't flinch. I didn't hide my face, and I didn't let a single tear spill. For twenty-six years, Darlene had controlled me through shame, public humiliation, and the weaponization of my own guilt. She believed that striking me in front of my future in-laws, my friends, and Ryan’s influential family would shatter my resolve and force me into submission.

The heavy door opened, and Darlene was led in, wearing an orange jumpsuit. The polished, arrogant woman who had slapped me at my engagement party was gone. In her place was a broken, desperate shell. Her roots were showing, her skin was sallow, and her eyes were wild.

She slammed her hands against the glass as soon as she sat down.

"Claire! You have to talk to Arthur! Tell the prosecutor it was all Montgomery's fault!" Darlene shrieked into the phone handset. "Mia is in a cell crying her eyes out! She can't survive in here!"

I calmly picked up my phone receiver, looking at her with absolute apathy.

"You slapped me twice, Darlene," I said quietly into the phone. "In front of everyone I care about."

Darlene flinched. "I was stressed! I was trying to save our lives from Viktor! You don't understand the pressure I was under!"

"No," I corrected her. "You slapped me because you thought fear would make me obey you. You thought if you humiliated me enough, I would give up Dad's money to save your skin."

"It's MY money!" Darlene screamed, slamming the phone base against the counter. "I spent twenty years with that miserable man! I deserved that estate!"

"Dad knew you were poisoning him," I dropped the sentence like a anvil.

Darlene went completely still. The color drained from her face, leaving her ghost white.

"W-what?" she stammered.

"Dad knew," I repeated, leaning closer to the glass. "He wrote me a letter before he died. He detailed every dose of poison you put in his tea. He detailed how you forced Mia to forge his signature. The FBI is currently searching the old summer cabin and exhuming Dad's remains for a full toxicology report. You aren't just going to prison for fraud, Darlene. You're going for premeditated murder."

Darlene began to shake violently. Hyperventilation seized her chest. "No... no, no, no... he couldn't have known... he was stupid! He was weak!"

"He was ten times the person you will ever be," I spat. "And by the way... the $60,000 trust wasn't his real legacy."

Darlene looked up, her bloodshot eyes filled with desperate greed even now. "What? What do you mean?"

"The real estate deeds—the twelve million dollar portfolio? Dad hid them where you will never touch a single cent," I smiled, seeing her soul break in real-time. "Every dollar will be donated to victims of domestic abuse and corporate fraud in Dad's name. You and Mia will spend the rest of your lives eating prison food, wearing orange, and knowing that the daughter you treated like dirt destroyed everything you built."

"Claire! No! Please! You can't do this to your mother!" Darlene wept, pounding desperately on the glass, her tears smearing against the cold surface. "I gave you life!"