Chapter 12 - The Whisper from Cell 402
The heavy steel doors of the subterranean visitation suite at Westchester Maximum Security groaned shut with a sound like a guillotine dropping. The room smelled of industrial floor stripper, cold damp concrete, and the stale despair of inmates who would never see daylight again.
Daniel sat behind the reinforced glass partition, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles knotted beneath his skin.
A guard escorted Victoria Vance into the opposite booth. She was clad in a garish orange prison jumpsuit, her wrists cuffed to a chain around her waist. Her once-flawless platinum blonde hair was dull and pulled into a messy knot; her manicured nails were cut to the quick. But her eyes—cold, reptilian, and swimming with venomous triumph—had lost none of their calculated cruelty.
She picked up the plastic telephone receiver with chained hands and smiled, pressing it to her ear.
Daniel grabbed his receiver. "Who delivered the box, Victoria?"
Victoria let out a soft, theatrical laugh that crackled through the static-laced line. "Hello to you too, darling. How is my little swan? Still terrified of bath time? I do hope she’s not having night terrors. Children’s brains are so fragile when they’re deprived of oxygen."
"Listen to me very carefully," Daniel hissed, leaning so close his breath fogged the thick glass. "Your bail was denied. Your father's offshore accounts were frozen by the federal task force yesterday. You are going to spend the next thirty years rotting in a concrete shoebox. If you so much as utter Clara’s name again, I will personally ensure your remaining appeals are incinerated."
"Oh, Daniel. Still playing the righteous titan of Wall Street," she mocked, tilting her head. "You think you won because that pathetic little nurse caught me on camera? You think this started with Clara?"
She leaned forward, tapping the acrylic partition with a chained knuckle.
"Eleanor was an amateur," Victoria purred, her eyes widening with sadistic delight. "She thought she could hide the pharmaceutical patents in Clara’s name before she filed for divorce. She thought she could take half the Vale empire and walk away into the sunset. Did you ever wonder why her brakes failed on a bridge with no guardrails, Daniel? Did you ever wonder why the dive team found her car, but her purse and her jewelry box were already gone?"
Daniel felt the floor drop out from under him. Eleanor’s death had been ruled an accident caused by black ice. For four years, guilt had eaten away at his soul, believing Eleanor had fled his workaholism only to die in a snowstorm.
"You weren't even in my life back then," Daniel whispered, horrified.
"I wasn't in your bed, darling," Victoria smiled, baring her teeth. "I was in the boardroom. And my family has been running your life long before you ever slipped that ring on my finger. Check the water, Daniel. Check Eleanor's grave."
The guard stepped forward, tapping Victoria on the shoulder. Her time was up.
May you like
As they dragged her backward toward the steel door, Victoria leaned toward the microphone one last time, whispering: "The rose has thorns, Daniel. And the next one won't be sent in a box. It will be carved into Clara's door."
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