Chapter 7 - The Visit
One week before the criminal trial was scheduled to begin, I walked down the long, linoleum-lined corridor of the County Judicial Detention Center.
My vision had slowly begun to return to my left eye—blurry, but clear enough to discern shapes, colors, and faces under bright light. My right eye was still covered by a thin protective shield, but the agonizing burn had finally subsided into a manageable ache.
I wore a simple navy blue wool coat, my hair pulled back into a neat knot, carrying only a small leather portfolio under my arm.
Two corrections officers opened the heavy steel door to Meeting Room B, allowing me to step inside.
Sitting on the far side of a thick plexiglass partition was Preston Caldwell.
He looked unrecognizable. His tailored suits had been replaced by a bright orange, ill-fitting jail jumpsuit. His hair was shaved close to his scalp per institutional intake rules, his skin was pale and sallow under the buzzing fluorescent lights, and his hands were secured to a steel waist chain that clinked softly every time he moved.
He raised his head as I sat down in the wooden chair opposite him, his eyes locking onto my eye patch with a mixture of shame, horror, and desperate, pathetic regret.
I picked up the black plastic intercom phone mounted on the wall.
Preston grabbed his phone with trembling, handcuffed hands, pressing it against his ear.
"Amelia..." he whispered, his voice cracking instantly as tears welled in his sunken eyes. "Amelia, please... please don't do this."
I didn't speak. I simply watched him through the glass with a quiet, unshakeable calm.
"I am so sorry," he sobbed, pressing his forehead against the cold plexiglass partition. "I was an idiot. I was terrified of my mother. She controlled everything—she controlled the money, the business, my whole life! I didn't know she was going to spray you! I swear to God, Amelia, I didn't know!"
"You held my arms, Preston," I said, my voice coming through his earpiece clear, quiet, and completely cold. "You held my arms while I begged you to let me go. You watched me cry on the floor for seven minutes, and you told me I was being dramatic."
"I was stupid!" he cried out, wiping his nose against his sleeve. "I was panicked because the business was failing! I thought if we presented a united front to my mother, she would give us the trust distribution! Please, Amelia, talk to your father! Tell the prosecutor to lower the charges! I can't survive in state prison! The people in here... they know who I am... they treat me like trash!"
"You are trash, Preston," I replied softly, without a single trace of anger in my tone. "Not because you had no money. But because you had no soul."
He flinched as if I had struck him across the face.
"I brought you something," I said, reaching into my portfolio and pressing a single sheet of paper against the glass partition.
It was a copy of the finalized, court-approved decree of annulment.
"Our marriage never existed," I told him. "The court has ruled that it was entered into under fraudulent pretenses and financial coercion. You are no longer my husband. You are simply a state prisoner waiting for a jury sentence."
"Amelia, please!" he begged, weeping openly now, his hands thrashing against his waist chain. "Give me one chance! I'll do anything! I'll testify against my mother! I'll tell the judge that she planned the whole thing! I'll give you everything!"
"You have nothing left to give, Preston," I said, standing up from my chair and buttoning my navy coat. "Your mother signed a full confession two hours ago in exchange for serving her sentence at a lower-security facility. She blamed the entire incident on your financial desperation."
Preston’s face drained of every remaining drop of color. "She... she blamed me?"
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"She treated you the same way you treated me," I said, placing the phone back onto its cradle. "You were just an instrument to her. And now, you can keep each other company in the dark."
I turned my back on him and walked toward the exit door. Behind me, through the thick glass, I could hear his muffled, desperate screams echoing off the concrete walls until the heavy steel door slammed shut behind me.
