Chapter 12 - CASSANDRA’S NEW CELLMATEThree hundred miles away, inside the maximum-security wing of the Bedford Hills Correctional Facility for Women, Cassandra Sterling was learning how to scrub toilet bowls with an abrasive pad and bleach.
Her golden hair, once maintained at a five-hundred-dollar-a-month Manhattan salon, was tied back in a greasy, ragged ponytail. Her designer fingernails were long gone, replaced by cracked, stained cuticles.
"Move it, Sterling," a deep voice barked from behind her.
Cassandra jumped, clutching the bucket of gray water to her chest. Standing over her was her new cellblock supervisor—a towering inmate named Roxy, who was serving twelve years for armed robbery. Roxy didn't care about high-society pedigree or Long Island real estate dynasties. In here, Cassandra was just another inmate who thought she was better than everyone else.
"I'm moving, I'm moving," Cassandra whispered, her lower lip trembling.
"Your father’s lawyers stopped answering your mail last month," Roxy said casually, leaning against the damp concrete wall. "Did you hear? The Sterling estate was auctioned off for pennies on the dollar. Your mother moved to a small studio apartment in Queens and filed for bankruptcy."
Cassandra dropped her cleaning brush. The bleach water splashed across her prison-issued sneakers. "That's... that's not true. My father has offshore accounts. He has connections!"
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Roxy laughed bitterly, a harsh, metallic sound that echoed down the cell block. "Honey, your father's 'connections' traded him out to the Feds to save their own skins. You and your husband were thrown to the wolves by the very people who created you."
Cassandra backed into the corner of the cell, sliding down the cold wall until she hit the floor, burying her face in her hands as silent, hopeless tears soaked her prison uniform.
