Chapter 15: The Final Cornering
The federal penitentiary was a brutal fortress of concrete and razor wire, a stark contrast to the sprawling mansions and country clubs Victoria Harrington was accustomed to.
I stood behind the one-way glass of the maximum-security visitation room. Mr. Whitmore stood beside me, his hands clasped neatly behind his back.
On the other side of the glass, a door buzzed loudly. Two female guards escorted Victoria into the room. She was wearing a baggy, bright orange jumpsuit. Her hair, once her crowning glory of blonde perfection, was showing inches of gray roots. She looked gaunt, aged ten years in the span of two weeks.
She sat down heavily in the metal chair and picked up the telephone receiver.
I picked up the receiver on my side.
"I told my lawyer I didn't want any visitors," Victoria rasped, glaring at me through the thick, smudge-covered glass. "Did you come to gloat, Emily? Because I'm already in hell. What more do you want?"
"I wanted to deliver the news personally," I said smoothly, my expression completely neutral. "The board officially scrubbed your name from the company archives this morning. All philanthropic wings of the hospital bearing your name have been rebranded to the Clara Evans Memorial Wing."
Victoria flinched as if I had physically struck her. To a narcissist, being forgotten was worse than being punished.
"Madison accepted her plea deal today," I continued relentlessly. "Five years. She told the judge everything, Victoria. She testified that you bred a culture of greed and cruelty in our home. She blamed you for everything she became."
Tears welled up in Victoria’s eyes, but they were tears of fury, not sorrow. "She is weak. Just like your father."
"My father outsmarted you," I reminded her softly. "And I ruined you."
Victoria pressed her hand against the glass, her fingernails scratching weakly against the reinforced barrier. "You are just a glitch, Emily. You're a mistake that Clara made. You think this money makes you special? You will always be the little orphan girl shivering in the hallway, begging for my approval!"
I looked at the pathetic, broken woman on the other side of the glass. I didn't feel angry anymore. I didn't feel vengeful. I just felt... free.
"I don't need your approval, Victoria," I said, my voice steady and absolute. "I own the building you're sitting in. Harrington Industries holds the private contracts for the security systems in this penitentiary."
Victoria's eyes widened in horror as she realized the full scope of my reach.
"Enjoy the rest of your life in a cage built by the daughter you threw away," I said.
I gently placed the receiver back onto the hook, cutting off her frantic, screaming voice mid-sentence. I turned away from the glass, walking out of the dark visitation room and into the bright, sunlit corridor of the real world.
Arthur was waiting for me by the exit, holding the door open.
"Is it finished, Miss Emily?" he asked gently.
May you like
I looked up at the blue sky, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face. For the first time in eleven years, the heavy weight on my chest was completely gone.
"Yes, Arthur," I smiled. "It's finally finished. Now, let's go home."
