Chapter 12 - BEHIND BARSTwo days later, I stood in the high-security visitors' gallery of the federal holding facility in lower Manhattan.
The room smelled of antiseptic, damp concrete, and unwashed despair. Behind the thick, smudged ballistic glass sat my mother and sister, wearing orange jumpsuits that swallowed their frames. Gone were the designer handbags, the manicured nails, and the arrogant sners.
The heavy steel door buzzed open, and a guard escorted them to the metal chairs on the other side of the glass.
My mother picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver with shaking hands. Her eyes were red-rimmed and hollow. She pressed it against her ear, staring at me through the smudged partition with a mixture of sheer terror and burning hatred.
I picked up my receiver, but I didn't say a word. I just looked at her.
"David," my mother’s voice crackled through the tiny speaker, trembling uncontrollably. "Please... you’re our flesh and blood. You can't let them do this to us. Chloe is sick—she needs medical attention. We’re facing twenty years for rackstaking and treason with Rossi!"
I let out a cold, humorless breath that fogged the glass slightly.
"You had a choice, Mother," I said, my voice carrying clearly through the intercom. "Eleven days after a C-section, while Maya was bleeding and starving in a freezing apartment with a newborn baby, you chose greed. You chose cruelty. You chose to align yourself with a monster."
Chloe grabbed the receiver away from our mother, her face twisted in absolute fury.
"You arrogant, ungrateful bastard!" Chloe screamed into the mic, pounding her fist against the glass. "We raised you! We gave up everything for you! And you throw us in a cage for a peasant and a brat!"
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"Enjoy your stay," I said softly.
I hung up the phone, stood straight, and turned my back on them forever. They yelled and slammed their fists against the glass, but the sound was completely blocked out by the heavy security door.
