Chapter 5 - The Prison Visitor
Two weeks later.
The visitation room at the State Maximum Security Correctional Facility was sterile, gray, and smelled faintly of floor disinfectant and old paint.
I sat behind a thick sheet of bulletproof glass, wearing a crisp ivory coat. Beside me, sitting in a portable bassinet, was one-month-old Aria, fast asleep under a soft pink blanket.
The heavy steel door on the opposite side of the glass clicked open.
Adrian Vale stepped into the room, escorted by two armed corrections officers.
He looked unrecognizable. His polished black hair was shaved short to conform with prison regulations. His tailored suit was gone, replaced by a baggy, bright orange inmate jumpsuit. His skin was pale, his shoulders hunched, his hands bound by heavy steel handcuffs connected to a waist chain.
He sat down heavily on the stool, his eyes wide, bloodshot, and filled with a terrifying, hollow despair.
He picked up the black plastic receiver with trembling fingers.
I picked up mine.
"Mara..." Adrian rasped, his voice buzzing through the small speaker. "Mara... please. You have to get me out of here. My lawyer says the prosecution is asking for six years."
"Six years is generous, Adrian," I replied softly, my voice completely unbothered. "Given that the assault was recorded from four different angles."
"I was stupid!" Adrian wept, pressing his forehead against the cold glass. "I was drunk! Sienna tricked me! She told me she was pregnant! My parents pushed me to do it! You know how my mother is, Mara! She wanted a high-society daughter-in-law!"
"You chose to punch your eight-month-pregnant wife, Adrian," I corrected him cleanly. "Nobody held your hand. Nobody forced you to tell me you wouldn't miss next time."
Adrian looked at the small bassinet sitting beside my chair. Tears poured down his hollow cheeks.
"Is that... is that her?" he whispered. "Is that my daughter?"
I looked at little Aria, then back at Adrian.
"She is my daughter, Adrian," I said, pulling a stack of legal documents from my leather briefcase and holding them against the glass. "This is a formal petition for the total, permanent termination of your parental rights based on felony domestic conviction. You will sign it today."
"No!" Adrian choked out, shaking his head frantically. "No! She's a Vale! She's my blood!"
"There is no Vale empire left, Adrian," I told him, every word dropping like an anvil. "Your father and mother are currently living in a one-bedroom state-assisted rental apartment in Queens. Your father is working as a night watchman at a parking garage. Your mother’s luxury items were auctioned off last Tuesday."
Adrian froze. His jaw dropped open as he stared at me in absolute, horrified disbelief. "What... what did you say?"
"I bought Vale Development," I continued smoothly. "I renamed it the Ashford Foundation for Women and Children. The headquarters building is now a crisis shelter for mothers escaping domestic violence."
Adrian stared at me through the glass, realizing that every single thing he had ever valued—his name, his wealth, his status, his freedom—had been systematically dismantled by the quiet woman he had once shoved into a gift table.
"Sign the papers, Adrian," I said softly. "Or I will instruct Arthur to pursue civil damages that will ensure you leave this prison penniless when your sentence ends."
With shaking, trembling fingers, Adrian picked up the pen handed to him by the guard.
May you like
He signed his name on the line.
I hung up the receiver, picked up my daughter's bassinet, and walked out of the prison without looking back once.
