Chapter 12 - THE ORANGE SUIT CONFRONTATION
Before boarding the private jet to Monaco, I made one final stop: the Allenwood Federal Correctional Institution in Pennsylvania.
The visitor’s room was sterile, smelling of industrial floor cleaner and cold plastic. I sat behind the reinforced glass window, waiting in silence. A minute later, the heavy metal door clicked open, and Julian Cross was led inside by two armed guards.
He looked unrecognizable. The tailored Italian suits were replaced by a faded orange jumpsuit. His groomed hair was shorn short, and his hollow, sunken eyes were dark with sleep deprivation. The man who had once mocked my worn dress before our domestic staff now looked smaller than a shadow.
When he saw me—wearing a tailored ivory silk suit and a single pearl ring—he collapsed onto the steel chair, his hands shaking inside his handcuffs.
"Clarissa..." he rasped, his voice cracked and desperate. "Please... you came. Did you get my letters? The appeals court rejected my bail. I can't survive in here, Clarissa. The other inmates... they know who I am. They know what I did to you."
"I didn't come to read your letters, Julian," I said into the intercom, my voice steady as stone. "I came to ask you about Victor Thorne."
Julian visibly flinched. The blood drained completely from his face, leaving him looking ghastly. "How... how do you know that name?"
"I unlocked the drive in your safe-deposit box," I replied. "I know Thorne promised you 20% of my trust once you broke me. I know he supplied you with the fake financial reports that led to your wire fraud charge."
Julian began to weep frantically, clutching the edges of the metal table. "He tricked me! Clarissa, you have to believe me! Thorne told me that if I didn't keep you isolated, if I let you talk to your father, he would ruin my family! He made me do it!"
"He didn't make you take Chloe to the gala, Julian," I said coldly. "He didn't make you tell the servants I was trash. You enjoyed every second of looking down on me."
"I was stupid! I was arrogant!" Julian screamed, slamming his forehead against the glass. "Save me, Clarissa! Tell the prosecutor I cooperated! Give me a second chance!"
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"You sold your soul to Victor Thorne for a throne made of paper," I whispered, leaning closer to the glass. "Now watch from your cell as I burn his whole kingdom to ashes."
I stood up, turned my back on his hysterical screams, and walked out into the bright sunlight.
