Part 6 - Behind the glass.
Part 6 - Behind the glass.
The visitor's room at the federal detention center smelled of industrial floor cleaner, stale coffee, and old wool. Cold, fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a harsh glare across the thick plexiglass partition separating the wooden booths.
I sat down on the metal stool, pulling my coat closely around myself.
A moment later, a heavy iron door clicked open. A guard led Ethan into the cubicle opposite mine.
The transformation was shocking. The impeccably tailored navy suits, custom leather shoes, and slicked-back hair were gone. He wore a faded orange jumpsuit that sagged off his shoulders. His face was hollow, dark circles bruised beneath his eyes, and a stubble covered his jaw.
He picked up the black plastic receiver with trembling hands. I slowly lifted mine to my ear.
"Claire," he breathed, his voice coming through the static of the receiver, small and broken. "You actually came."
"You have four minutes, Ethan," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "What do you want?"
Ethan leaned forward, pressing his hands flat against the glass, his eyes wide and frantic. "You have to help me, Claire. Please. The DA is pushing for a twelve-year sentence. Twelve years! In a federal penitentiary! I won't survive in there. You know I won't."
"You should have thought about that before you forged medical documents, stole two million dollars, and tried to ruin my life," I replied calmly.
"It was Madison!" Ethan blurted out, tears welling in his eyes as he tried to shift the blame. "She orchestrated the whole thing! She was the one who found the administrator at the clinic. She told me you were going to leave me anyway and take half the firm! I was just trying to protect what we built!"
"What I built, Ethan," I corrected softly. "You didn't build anything. You just managed the assets I created while plotting behind my back."
Ethan swallowed hard, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his orange suit. "Okay... okay, look. In my letter, I mentioned your father's estate. I wasn't lying, Claire. Before your dad passed away four years ago, he left a private trust account in Switzerland. He put it under my name as the trustee because he didn't trust the corporate lawyers."
I didn't blink. "And?"
"It's worth four million dollars," Ethan whispered, leaning closer to the glass as if someone might overhear. "Four million, Claire. It’s untouched. If you talk to the prosecutor, tell them you're dropping the civil damages, and push for probation or a reduced sentence for me... I’ll sign the entire trust over to you today. Every single penny."
I sat in silence for a few seconds, looking at the man I had once loved, the man I had promised to spend my life with. He still believed everything in this world had a price. He still thought money could buy him a way out of his own moral bankruptness.
"Ethan," I said gently, leaning closer to the microphone. "My father died of cancer four years ago. Two weeks before he passed, he told me about the Swiss account."
Ethan’s eyes widened in sheer terror. "What?"
"He didn't make you trustee because he trusted you," I continued, watching the blood completely drain from his face. "He put your name on it as a test. He told me if you were an honest man, you would hand over the access codes when he died. If you were a thief, you would keep quiet and wait for the right moment to use it as leverage."
Ethan’s jaw trembled. "Claire... no..."
"I turned those Swiss account details over to the District Attorney three days ago," I said, a faint, cold smile touching my lips. "The four million dollars has already been seized and added to the restitution fund. You don't have any bargaining chips left, Ethan. You never did."
The buzzer on the wall sounded loudly, signaling the end of the visit. The guard behind Ethan stepped forward, grabbing his shoulder.
"Claire! Wait! Please! Don't leave me!" Ethan screamed into the phone, slamming his fist against the plexiglass as the guard pulled him backward. "Claire! I'm sorry! Please, I still love you!"
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I slowly hung up the plastic receiver, stood up from the stool, and smoothed the front of my coat.
I didn't look back as the heavy steel door clicked shut, sealing him inside his own nightmare forever.
