Chapter 6 - The Visitor in Holding
Three days later, while Clara took her first painful, assisted steps down the hospital corridor with a walker, Margot sat in a holding cell downtown. Her hair was unwashed, her expensive designer jacket wrinkled, her face stripped of its calculated composure.
She wasn't crying. She was plotting.
When her visitor arrived behind the thick glass partition, Margot didn't look up immediately. She assumed it was a public defender or a junior prosecutor offering a plea deal.
“I want a reduced sentence,” Margot spat out without looking. “Arthur is bluffing. He loves me too much to let me go to prison. He’ll fold.”
“He’s not here, Margot.”
Margot’s head snapped up.
Standing on the other side of the glass, leaning heavily on a steel walker with her right leg wrapped in a supportive brace, was Clara.
Margot stared at her stepdaughter, the sheer audacity of the visit silencing her for a full five seconds before her expression twisted into a venomous sneer. “You pathetic little leech. You think walking into a jail makes you strong? You’re still a cripple. Your back is held together by metal and screws. You’ll never run, you’ll never dance the same way again!”
Clara didn't flinch. She stepped closer to the glass, her face a mask of absolute calm. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and pressed play on an audio recording.
The speaker filled the small visiting booth with the crystal-clear sound of Margot’s voice from the night of the dinner party:
“Carry her yourself—or she stays there until dessert.”
Margot’s breath hitched.
“That recording,” Clara said, her voice dropping an octave into a chilling register, “was picked up by the microphone of the emergency dispatcher when Dad’s pocket-dial connected before you snatched the phone. It’s Exhibit A in your upcoming trial for aggravated assault, kidnapping, and attempted manslaughter.”
May you like
Margot slammed her palm against the glass. “You bitch! I raised you! I fed you!”
“You starved me of safety,” Clara replied steadily. “And now, every single penny you stole, every asset you hid, and every year of freedom you thought you deserved is gone. Enjoy your new home, Margot. It has much smaller windows than ours.”
