Chapter 7 - The Glass Divide
The visitation room at the Cook County Department of Corrections smelled of industrial floor bleach, stale sweat, and old metal.
I sat on a metal chair on one side of a thick reinforced glass partition.
A heavy steel door opened on the opposite side. A guard escorted Daniel inside.
He looked unrecognizable. In three weeks, he had lost at least fifteen pounds. He was wearing an oversized orange jumpsuit that hung loosely off his stooped shoulders. His hair was greasy, unwashed, and thinning; his beard was patchy and grey; and his hands were secured in heavy metal wrist restraints chained to his waist belt.
He sat down on the stool across from me, his eyes wide, watery, and hollow.
He picked up the black plastic telephone handset attached to the wall with a coiled steel wire.
I picked up my handset, holding it to my ear.
"Emily..." Daniel's voice rasped through the small speaker, sounding thin and brittle, like dry leaves scraping across concrete. "God... Emily... thank you for coming."
"I didn't come to visit you, Daniel," I said flatly, keeping my expression entirely neutral. "I came to watch you sign the surrender of your equity."
Daniel flinched, leaning his forehead against the cold glass partition. "Emily... please. Look at me. I'm destroyed. I've lost everything. My name... my career... my dignity... everything is gone."
"You didn't lose it, Daniel," I corrected him softly. "You threw it away. You traded twelve years of marriage, an empire, and your freedom for an executive assistant who turned on you thirty seconds after the police walked into the room."
Daniel let out a pathetic, broken sob, tears spilling over his cheeks, dropping onto the orange fabric of his jumpsuit. "She... she lied to me. Vanessa lied to me about everything. She was sleeping with a manager from MidWest Freight too, Emily. The police found out during the investigation. She was using both of us to leak insider merger details."
I raised an eyebrow, though I wasn't surprised. Predators always hunt in packs until the cage closes.
"Vanessa pled guilty yesterday to felony assault and conspiracy," I informed him coldly. "She was sentenced to three years at Logan Correctional Center. She won't be visiting you."
Daniel closed his eyes, his head trembling against the glass. "I was an idiot. A blind, arrogant, foolish idiot. I thought I was untouchable. I thought... I thought you would never leave me."
"I know," I said. "You thought I was weak because I was kind. You mistook my loyalty for stupidity."
Arthur Vance stepped into the visitation room, sliding a thick legal document through the narrow metal slot at the base of the glass partition, along with a black ballpoint pen.
"Page twelve, Mr. Carter," Arthur said through his speaker. "Initial every paragraph relinquishing all claims to Carter-Vance Logistics, the Lake Forest estate, and all domestic accounts. Full signature on page fifteen."
Daniel looked down at the paper. His hand trembled so violently he could barely hold the pen.
"If I sign this..." Daniel whispered, looking up at me through the glass, "I walk out of prison in four years with nothing. I'll have no money. No home. No industry credentials. I'll be fifty-two years old, living in a studio apartment, working as a night manager if I'm lucky."
"Then don't sign it," I said, leaning closer to the glass. "Don't sign it, go to trial, lose, and spend twenty years in a federal penitentiary. The choice is yours, Daniel. You always loved making executive decisions."
Daniel stared at me. He looked into my icy blue eyes, looked at my sharp, platinum-blonde hair, and realized that the woman who used to bake him bread and rub his back after long flights was completely, permanently gone.
He placed the pen against the paper.
With trembling, clumsy strokes, he initialed page twelve. Page thirteen. Page fourteen.
On page fifteen, he signed his full name: Daniel Edward Carter.
He slid the document back through the metal slot.
I picked up the signed paper, checked the signatures, and handed it to Arthur. Then I stood up, smoothing down my blazer.
"Goodbye, Daniel," I said, setting the plastic handset back onto its wall hook.
"Emily! Wait!" Daniel slammed his hand against the glass, his voice muted and muffled through the soundproof barrier. "Emily! Please! Do you... do you think you could ever forgive me?! In five years... when I get out... can I call you?!"
May you like
I looked at him through the glass. I didn't feel anger anymore. I didn't feel revengeful joy. I felt nothing at all—just the clean, quiet expanse of a future that belonged entirely to me.
I turned around and walked out of the visitation room without looking back.
