Chapter 7 - The Cellblock Showdown
Z
The visiting room at the Metropolitan Correctional Center was partitioned with thick, smudged bulletproof glass. When Ethan was brought into the booth, his hair was greasy, his face was bruised from an altercation in general population, and his once-arrogant posture had dissolved into a frantic, twitching mess.
He grabbed the telephone receiver with trembling hands as I sat on the other side of the glass.
"Claire! Claire, thank God you came!" he screamed into the receiver, his voice cracking through the static. "You have to get me out of here! You have to tell the DA that it was all an accident! Tell them you tripped! Tell them we were just joking around!"
"Joking around, Ethan?" I replied, my voice steady, cold, and calm. "You gave me a severe pelvic contusion. You nearly caused a placental abruption that would have killed your niece."
"I was stressed!" he shouted, banging his fist against the glass. A guard stepped forward, resting a hand on his baton, and Ethan shrank back instinctively. "Chloe’s father was threatening to pull his investment connections! I needed collateral! You have tens of millions of dollars, Claire! What difference did one stupid apartment make to you? You're a woman! You’re single! You don’t need an empire! I’m the one who carries the Morgan name!"
"The Morgan name is currently synonymous with cowardice, forgery, and domestic violence across every financial newspaper in the country," I told him. "Chloe filed for an annulment. Her father handed over your encrypted thumb drive. The SEC and the FBI have linked you to twelve million dollars in fraudulent investment schemes."
Ethan’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated terror. "No... no, no, no! Chloe wouldn't do that! She loved me!"
"She loved a man who didn't exist," I said. "And there's more. Mom gave up the location of Dad's hidden safe deposit box. The original probate records from Grandfather's estate have been recovered. Grandfather left the family trust to me. Every single dollar Dad funneled into your failed businesses over the last ten years was stolen directly from my inheritance. My civil attorneys have filed an emergency clawback action. Every asset you ever purchased—your sports car, your luxury watches, your designer wardrobe—has been seized by court-appointed receivers."
Ethan pressed his forehead against the glass, sobbing uncontrollably. "Claire, please... I’m your brother. We shared a childhood. Remember when we used to build treehouses in the backyard? Remember when I defended you from the neighborhood bullies?"
"You never defended me, Ethan," I said, looking straight into his bloodshot eyes. "You paid those bullies to ruin my bicycle so Dad would buy you a new dirt bike instead. You have been a predator your entire life, fed by parents who treated you like a golden idol and treated me like disposable labor."
"I will die in here, Claire!" he wailed, tears streaming down his unwashed face. "The guys in my block know what I did to a pregnant woman! They don't let me sleep! Please, pay my bail! Just two million! You won't even notice it's gone!"
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"I would rather burn every dollar I own to ash than spend one cent keeping you out of a cage," I said evenly.
I hung up the receiver, stood up, and walked toward the exit. Behind me, Ethan slammed his fists against the glass, screaming obscenities until two burly corrections officers tackled him to the floor and dragged him screaming down the corridor.
