My mother threw a bowl of scalding hot soup in my face because I dared to refuse her stepdaughter. "Give her all your things—or get out!" she yelled. So I quietly left. When they got home, the house was empty and... and a man in a suit was waiting.

The interrogation room at the State District Courthouse smelled of stale floor wax and cold coffee.

Diane sat at the metal table, wearing an orange jail jumpsuit, her hands handcuffed to a heavy iron ring bolted into the center of the steel desk. Her face was lined with deep, exhaustion-born wrinkles, her silver hair uncolored and showing two inches of dark roots at the crown.

Across the table sat Sarah Jenkins—the lead Assistant District Attorney—and Marcus Bell, who was attending as the civil victim representative.

"Mrs. Miller," Sarah Jenkins said, opening a thick black binder on the metal table. "We are forty-eight hours away from jury selection in your criminal battery trial. The prosecution's primary evidence includes four-K high-definition video of the incident, medical reports documenting second-degree burns on the victim's face, and testimony from the responding officers."

Diane lowered her head, her voice a raspy, broken whisper. "I didn't mean to burn her face... I was just angry..."

"Intent is irrelevant under Section 240 of the State Penal Code," Sarah Jenkins replied coldly. "You threw a dangerous, scalding liquid at a victim's head. The statutory sentencing range for felony battery with serious bodily injury is five to twelve years in state prison."

Diane let out a long, shuddering sob, her iron handcuffs clanking loudly against the metal ring in the table. "Twelve years... I'll die in there... please... I'm fifty-six years old... I have heart problems..."

Marcus Bell leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

"Chloe has agreed to allow the District Attorney to offer a negotiated plea agreement, Diane," Marcus said softly.

Diane’s head snapped up, her red-rimmed eyes filling with a sudden, desperate hope. "Chloe? She... she talked to you? She wants to help me?!"

"She doesn't want to help you, Diane," Marcus corrected her instantly, his tone razor-sharp. "She wants this matter permanently closed so she never has to hear your name again."

He pushed a two-page document across the metal desk.

"The terms are simple," Marcus stated. "You will enter a plea of guilty to Count One: Felony Domestic Battery. You will be sentenced to three years in state custody, with two years suspended, meaning you will serve twelve months in the county correctional facility."

Diane gasped. "One year in jail?!"

"One year in jail," Marcus repeated. "In exchange, you will execute a complete, irrevocable waiver of all future claims against the Eleanor Reed Trust, you will forfeit any residual estate claims, and you will sign a permanent civil injunction prohibiting you from ever contacting Chloe Reed, entering her property, or speaking to the media about her business."

"And if I refuse?" Diane choked out, her voice trembling.

Sarah Jenkins closed her black binder with a sharp, heavy thud.

"If you refuse," Sarah said, "we proceed to trial on Monday morning. I will seek the maximum twelve-year sentence, and I will call the forensic auditors to testify about your involvement in Gerald's corporate fraud scheme."

Diane stared at the two-page document sitting on the cold metal table. Her trembling fingers picked up the cheap plastic pen sitting beside the paper.

She looked at Marcus Bell. "Tell... tell Chloe... tell her I'm sorry..."