Chapter 12 - The Midnight Phone Call from Cell Block D
The torrential rain struck the glass facade of the Massachusetts State Correctional Institution for Women like a volley of shotgun pellets. Inside Cell Block D, the air smelled of industrial bleach, damp concrete, and unwashed terror.
Victoria Vance sat on her steel bunk, her orange prison jumpsuit hanging loose over her frame. Without her custom contour makeup, her diamond earrings, and her tailored Balmain blouses, she looked hollowed-out, like a marionette whose strings had been snapped in half. Yet her eyes—cold, reptilian, and impossibly sharp—burned in the darkness.
The heavy steel hatch of her cell clanged open. A senior correctional officer stood in the doorway, his baton resting against his thigh, his eyes devoid of warmth.
"Vance. You have an attorney visit."
Victoria didn't move. "It’s midnight, Officer Miller. Even Arthur doesn't work these hours. Tell him to rot."
"Not Arthur," the guard whispered, stepping into the cell and tilting his head toward the blind spot in the surveillance camera. He reached into his tactical vest, pulled out a encrypted burner phone, and held it out to her. "Take the call. You have ninety seconds before the shift change."
Victoria stared at the illuminated screen. The caller ID was a sequence of ten zeroes. Her breath hitched. A slow, terrifying smile cracked her dry, chapped lips. She took the phone with trembling fingers and pressed it to her ear.
"I gave you everything," she hissed into the receiver. "You said the contingency was airtight! You promised the board would vote to strip Daniel within an hour of the baby shower reveal! Now I'm sitting in a cage like an animal while Daniel parades his little bastard around Beacon Hill!"
*"Calm yourself, Victoria,"* a smooth, aristocratic baritone spoke on the other end. The voice carried the distinct cadence of old money, untouched by panic, completely insulated from the filth of her cell. *"You failed because you underestimated an eight-year-old child. A chair, Victoria? You allowed a second-grader to dismantle an eight-hundred-million-dollar acquisition because you couldn't keep your balance?"*
"Emma saw the seam!" Victoria snarled, tears of rage blurring her vision. "The prosthetic shifted when I sat down! I told you we needed a real surrogate on site to back up the illusion, but you left Sarah Jenkins alive!"
*"Sarah Jenkins was never meant to survive the delivery,"* the voice replied, chillingly detached. *"The Boston syndicate failed their cleanup. But that is no longer your concern. What is your concern is your transfer tomorrow morning."*
Victoria’s posture stiffened. "What transfer? My bail hearing isn't until Thursday."
*"At 4:00 AM, a court order signed by Judge Hollingsworth will remand you to federal custody in Otisville. Your transport van will experience an unfortunate hydraulic failure on the Tobin Bridge."*
A cold sweat broke out across Victoria's forehead. "No... no, wait! You can't silence me! Daniel has Arthur digging into the offshore trusts! If Arthur finds the Munich accounts, they will trace the initial funding back to your family! You need me alive to testify that I acted alone!"
*"Goodbye, Victoria. You were a magnificent weapon until you became a liability."*
The line went dead.
Victoria shoved the phone back into the guard’s chest, her chest heaving. "Get Daniel Sterling on the phone. Right now!" she screamed, gripping the iron bars of her cell door until her knuckles turned white. "GET HIM ON THE PHONE! TELL HIM THEY’RE GOING TO KILL THE SURROGATE! TELL HIM CLARA DIDN'T DIE IN THE ACCIDENT!"
The guard didn't blink. He calmly took the phone, slid it back into his vest, pulled the steel door shut, and turned the heavy brass key in the deadbolt.
May you like
"Sleep tight, Mrs. Sterling," the guard said, and walked away into the shadows, leaving her screams to be swallowed by the deafening thunder outside.
***
