Chapter 8 - Behind the Wire
Six months later.
The Westchester County Correctional Facility was a grey, brutalist concrete structure sitting beneath a dull overcast sky. Inside the visitation room, the air smelled of floor wax and stale coffee.
Ethan sat on a metal chair behind a thick pane of bulletproof glass. He wore a bright orange jumpsuit. His face was thin, his hair unkempt, and dark circles shadowed his hollow eyes.
On the other side of the glass, the small speaker crackled to life.
Margaret sat down on the visitor’s bench. She wore a simple charcoal coat, her hair pinned back neatly. She looked healthier than she had in five years, her posture straight and vibrant.
Ethan picked up the phone. Margaret picked up hers.
“Are you satisfied?” Ethan asked, his voice bitter and hollow. “I’m facing twenty years in maximum security. The bank seized my apartment. My name is a punchline on the news. Is this the revenge you wanted?”
Margaret looked at him quietly through the reinforced glass. “I never wanted revenge, Ethan. I wanted you to understand.”
“Understand what? That you’re smarter than me? That you outplayed me?”
“No,” Margaret said softly. “That money and power mean nothing if you lose your soul in the process. You thought I was weak because I chose to be gentle. You thought my kindness was a vulnerability you could exploit.”
Ethan looked away, staring at his reflection in the glass, just as he had done in the hidden room six months ago. “Why did you come here today?”
“Because the trial starts next week,” Margaret replied. “And your lawyers asked if I would consider testifying on your behalf for a reduced sentence.”
Ethan’s head snapped back to her, a faint flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. “Will you? Mom, please... twenty years will kill me in here. Tell the judge I was stressed. Tell them I was going through a breakdown!”
Margaret stared at him for a long, agonizing moment.
“I told your lawyers no,” she said firmly.
May you like
The flicker of hope in Ethan’s eyes died instantly.
“I will not lie for you anymore, Ethan,” Margaret said, her voice steady and unyielding. “Consequences are the only teachers you have left. You will serve your time. And perhaps, when you come out, you will understand the value of a broken plate.”
