Chapter 21 - Echoes in the Concrete
The heavy iron gates of the federal penitentiary upstate slammed shut with a deafening, metallic echo that reverberated through Alexander Sterling’s chest. His orange jumpsuit felt too loose, the coarse fabric scratching against skin that had once been pampered in custom-tailored Italian linen. Six months into his twelve-year sentence, the initial shock had worn off, replaced by a gnawing, suffocating despair.
He sat on the edge of his narrow steel bunk in Block C, staring blankly at the gray cinder-block wall. Around him, the prison block buzzed with a low, threatening hum of hardened criminals, gang politics, and institutional decay. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Sophia’s face—not the submissive, polite fiancée he had tried to manipulate at JFK Airport, but the cold, calculating strategist who had dismantled his empire with a few keystrokes.
"Sterling! Visitor booth. Now," a corrections officer barked, rapping a heavy wooden baton against the iron bars of cell 412.
Alexander blinked, his heart skipping a beat. A visitor? Khloe had stopped writing months ago after her probation began in Ohio. None of his former business associates would dare risk associating with him. Trembling slightly, he stood up, smoothing down his jumpsuit, and followed the guard down the sterile, fluorescent-lit corridor.
When he slid into the plastic seat behind the thick Plexiglas partition, his breath hitched. Sitting on the other side was not a lawyer or a federal agent. It was Victor Vance—an old-guard associate of the Eastern European syndicate who had managed to slip through the initial net of the FBI's sweeping raids.
Victor’s face was bruised, his eyes cold and dead as a winter sea. He picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver. Alexander slowly lifted his own, pressing it against his ear.
"You cost us billions, Alexander," Victor’s voice came through the static, low and venomous. "And more importantly, you let a woman walk away with our primary routing codes."
"I... I lost everything too," Alexander stammered, panic flooding his veins. "Sophia took Aegis Global, she took the offshore accounts—"
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"We don't care about your excuses," Victor interrupted quietly. "Your debt to us isn't cleared just because you're sitting in a cage. And your wife... she thinks she's untouchable in her Manhattan fortress. But the game isn't over yet, Sterling. Not by a long shot."
The phone clicked dead, leaving Alexander staring into the reflection of his own terrified eyes in the glass.
