Chapter 6 - THE SHATTERED ILLUSIONTwo weeks later, the maximum-security holding facility in Queens was cold, damp, and smelled of bleach and despair.
When the heavy steel door buzzed open, Richard Vale sat behind the reinforced glass partition. His custom suit was gone, replaced by a coarse orange jumpsuit. His hair was unwashed, and the arrogant, booming authority that had terrorized our family for decades had completely dissolved into pathetic, hollow rage.
When he saw me walking toward the visitation booth on my crutches, he leaped to his feet, slamming his cuffed fists against the glass.
"Ethan! You ungrateful little monster!" he shrieked, his voice muffled by the thick acoustic barrier. He grabbed the wall phone, and a second later, my handset buzzed.
I picked it up slowly, holding his furious, bloodshot gaze through the glass.
"Drop the charges!" Richard screamed into his receiver, spittle flying against the partition. "I raised you! I gave you a home after your mother died!"
"You stole my father's company, you tried to cheat me out of my inheritance, and you spat on me while I was bleeding from an amputation," I replied, my voice dangerously calm. "You didn't raise me, Richard. You tolerated me because you thought I was a temporary obstacle."
Richard’s face twisted into a mask of pure terror as he realized there was no escape.
"Please, Ethan," he begged, his voice cracking into a high-pitched sob. "We're blood! Let me out of here! I'll give you everything—"
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"We're not blood, remember?" I cut him off smoothly, tapping the glass with my fingernail. "The DNA test proved that. You were just a stranger living in our house on borrowed time."
I hung up the handset, ignoring his hysterical, muffled screams, and turned around, walking steadily out of the facility into the bright spring sunlight.
