Chapter 7 - Truths and Reckonings
Isabelle stared at me through the glass, her dark eyes searching my face for any sign of anger, hesitation, or weakness. She was used to manipulating people's emotions, finding their cracks, and leveraging them for her own gain.
"You're lying," she said, her voice dropping into a harsh whisper. "You want that money for Nora. You need it."
"I do want what belongs to my daughter," I replied smoothly. "But I don't need to make deals with a criminal to get it. Arthur checked with the state insurance commissioner yesterday. Because your accomplice, Richard, was arrested while in possession of state-line financial contraband, the federal prosecutor automatically seized all documents in his safe deposit boxes. They found the certificates three days ago, Isabelle."
Isabelle’s breath hitched. She looked at Arthur, who sat beside me, offering a calm, dismissive nod.
The illusion of her remaining power shattered instantly. The cold, smug facade she had maintained crumbled into raw desperation.
"Marcus, please," she blurted out, her hands pressing against the glass. "You don't understand... Richard forced me into this. He owed money to dangerous people. I didn't want to hurt Nora! I was just trying to find a way out!"
I looked at her, watching her perform yet another rehearsed act of victimhood. But this time, I felt no pity, no confusion, no pain. Only clarity.
"You locked an eight-year-old girl in a bathroom on what was supposed to be a happy day," I said, my voice resolute and steady. "You threatened her. You tried to ship her off across the world so you could steal her mother's memory and her future. You didn't do it for Richard. You did it because you have no soul."
"Marcus—"
"I came here today for one reason," I interrupted, standing up from the metal chair. "Not to hear your excuses, and not to negotiate. I came here so that the last time I ever saw your face, I would be looking down on you from behind a barrier where you can never touch my family again."
I hung up the receiver.
Isabelle slammed her hand against the glass, screaming something I couldn't hear through the thick partition, but the guards immediately grabbed her arms, forcing her back toward the holding cell door.
May you like
I walked out of the visitation center into the cool spring air. The rain had stopped, and bright sunshine was breaking through the gray clouds overhead.
I took a deep, clear breath of fresh air. For the first time in five years, the heavy, dense silence of grief and betrayal was completely gone. In its place was something light, clean, and hopeful.
