Chapter 12 - Shadows in the Visiting Room
Federal Correctional Institution, Florence.
The security glass was smudged with the fingerprints of a thousand broken men. On the other side sat Ryan. Three years in federal custody had turned his once-polished exterior into a hollowed-out shell. His prison jumpsuit hung loosely over his shrinking frame, his hair cropped close to his scalp, his eyes hollow and dead.
He picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver. I mirrored his action, leaving the receiver pressed to my ear while remaining seated on my side of the reinforced glass.
“Claire,” his voice crackled through the tiny speaker, raspy and small. “I didn't think you’d ever visit.”
“I didn't come to reminisce, Ryan,” I said, my voice completely devoid of warmth or malice. I spoke with the chilling calm of a judge delivering a final verdict. “I came to deliver a message from the outside world.”
Ryan swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “Did... did my dad try to contact you?”
“Your father is currently fighting three additional federal indictments for securities manipulation inside his cell block,” I said evenly. “And your late Uncle Arthur just solved our financial separation permanently.”
Ryan blinked, confused. “Uncle Arthur? He died?”
“He did. And because of the way our marriage contract was structured—and the fact that you decided to forge my signature and commit federal mortgage fraud—every single penny of Arthur’s European shipping empire just rolled over into my portfolio.”
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Ryan’s jaw dropped. He stared at me through the smudged glass, realization dawning with agonizing slowness. “You... you took everything. Even my family’s inheritance.”
“You traded your future for a two-point-five-million-dollar scam,” I whispered, leaning slightly closer to the glass. “I just collected the change. Enjoy the rest of your sentence, Ryan.”
