Chapter 13 - The Traitor’s Price
Z
When I returned to Washington two days later, the fallout was immediate and catastrophic for the remaining remnants of the Montgomery alliance.
Harrison Sterling resigned as Eleanor’s defense attorney within twenty-four hours of the Miami confrontation, attempting to distance himself from his brother's fraudulent land trust. But the federal prosecutors were relentless. They issued subpoenas for every financial transaction between Harrison, Marcus, and the Montgomery estate.
On Friday afternoon, I received an unexpected phone call from the county detention center.
The automated voice asked if I would accept a collect call from an inmate: Greg Montgomery.
I almost hung up. But curiosity, combined with a desire to ensure no more surprises were coming my way, made me press '1'.
"Jess?" Greg’s voice came through the line, weak, cracked, and trembling.
"Why are you calling me, Greg?" I asked coldly, standing in the kitchen of my home as the rain tapped gently against the glass.
"I... I needed to tell you," Greg stammered, coughing harshly. "They arrested Harrison this morning. And Marcus. Mom is in solitary confinement at the federal facility because she tried to destroy corporate records from her cell."
"I know," I replied flatly. "I was the one who handed over the land records."
A long, heavy silence stretched over the phone line. I could hear Greg’s ragged breathing on the other end.
"I didn't know about the land, Jess," Greg whispered, his voice cracking with genuine weeping. "I swear to God, I didn't know Mom had set that up against your parents. If I had known, I would have stopped her. You have to believe me."
"It doesn't matter what you knew or didn't know, Greg," I said softly. "You built a life on her lies. You allowed her to treat everyone around you as disposable pawns."
"I lost my job at the auto shop today," Greg sobbed openly. "Because of the news coverage about Harrison and Marcus. The owner said the publicity was too toxic. I have three hundred dollars left in my bank account, Jess. I'm living in a rooming house near the train tracks. I can't even afford my legal counsel for the probation review."
I sat down at the dining table, looking at the bright sunflowers sitting in the glass vase. Six months ago, hearing Greg suffer might have brought me a dark sense of satisfaction. But now? It just felt pathetic. He was a ghost mourning his own self-inflicted destruction.
"You reaped what you sowed, Greg," I said gently. "You stood by while your family tried to destroy my life, my business, and my parents' peace. You don't get to ask for pity now."
"Can... can I see the kids next week?" Greg pleaded desperately. "Just for an hour, Jess. Please. They're all I have left."
"The court-ordered supervisor will contact you if your drug screening and psychological evaluation clear," I stated firmly. "Not before. Do not call this number again, Greg. Communicate through Arthur."
"Jess, wait—!"
May you like
I hung up the phone.
I picked up my tea cup, took a slow sip, and looked out the window at the garden. The ghosts of the Montgomery family were fading, one by one, into the background noise of history. They had tried to bury me, forgetting that I was a seed.
