Chapter 8 - THE PRISON VISITTwo months later, the federal holding facility upstate was cold, sterile, and smelled of industrial floor wax.
I sat in the secure visitation booth, separated from the other side by a thick sheet of reinforced glass.
The heavy steel door clicked open, and two guards led Nathaniel Pierce into the room.
He looked unrecognizable. Gone was the charcoal suit, the designer haircut, and the arrogant, million-dollar smile. He wore a standard orange jumpsuit, his hair was unwashed, and deep, dark circles shadowed his hollow hazel eyes.
He sat down heavily on the metal stool, picking up the heavy black telephone receiver. I picked up mine.
"Emma..." Nathaniel’s voice sounded cracked, desperate, and small through the speaker. "Thank God... please, you have to help me. My court-appointed attorney is useless. They're pushing for ten years. TEN YEARS!"
I didn't blink. I didn't smile. I just looked at him through the glass.
"You thought you could steal my mother's legacy, Nathaniel," I said, my voice steady and cold. "You thought you could use my yacht to impress men who wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire."
"I made a mistake!" Nathaniel sobbed, tears spilling down his pale cheeks. "I was stressed! The market was crashing! Please, Emma... we were married. Don't do this to me."
"We aren't married anymore, Nathaniel," I reminded him calmly. "The judge signed the annulment decree yesterday morning on grounds of fraud and bad-faith entrapment."
Nathaniel slammed his fist against the glass partition. "YOU BITCH! YOU DESTROYED MY LIFE!"
"No, Nathaniel," I said, standing up smoothly from my stool, adjusting my coat buttons. "You built a house out of lies, and you blamed the wind when it finally collapsed."
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"Emma! EMMA!" he screamed as the guards stepped forward, grabbing his shoulders and dragging him backward toward the heavy steel door. "EMMA, PLEASE!"
I didn't look back. I hung up the telephone receiver, turned around, and walked out of the prison into the crisp winter air.
