Chapter 8 - The Confrontation on Beacon Hill
Two weeks later, Nathan stood in the high-ceilinged visiting room of the Suffolk County House of Correction.
Across the steel table, separated by thick security glass, sat Juliette.
She wore an orange jumpsuit that clashed violently with her pale skin. Her hair was unwashed, pulled back in a tangled ponytail, and without makeup, the fine lines of stress around her eyes were etched deep. She looked ten years older than the glamorous heiress who had presided over the boardroom forty-eight hours earlier.
"You came," she said, picking up the heavy black receiver against the wall.
Nathan picked up his receiver, keeping his face devoid of emotion. "Martin Vance said you refused to sign the asset divestment agreement unless you spoke to me."
"I want a deal, Nate," Juliette pleaded, pressing her hand against the glass. Her voice was cracked and frantic. "Voss’s lawyers are trying to pin the entire conspiracy on me! They're saying I manipulated him! They're talking about twenty-five years at Framingham! You have to talk to the prosecutor. Tell them I was young. Tell them I didn't know the bomb would go off!"
"You were twenty-eight years old, Juliette," Nathan said, his voice flat and unyielding. "You had a degree from Dartmouth. You had an MBA from Columbia. You were not a child. You knew exactly what you were doing when you authorized the transfer of the explosive components through the dummy shipping company in New Bedford."
"I'm your sister!" she cried out, tears spilling down her hollow cheeks. "We share the same blood!"
"Our father shared that blood too," Nathan said. "And you left him to drown in forty-degree water."
Juliette recoiled as if struck across the face. "Is he... is he really dying?"
"Yes," Nathan replied, the word heavy with sorrow. "The doctors give him less than a month. His lungs are ruined, Juliette. Ruined by the smoke from the yacht you ordered destroyed. He will never walk through the Boston Common again. He will never see the ocean again. Because of you."
Juliette bowed her head against the cold steel table, her weeping echoing through the sterile partition. "I didn't want it to end like this, Nate. I just wanted... I wanted Dad to look at me the way he looked at you. Just once. He always talked about your vision, your integrity, your future. I was just the daughter who arranged the flowers for the charity galas."
Nathan closed his eyes, feeling the tragedy of her words wash over him. "Dad loved you, Juliette. He had an entire educational foundation drafted in your name before the fire. He was going to announce it at the annual gala that Christmas. You didn't give him the chance."
Juliette looked up, her eyes wide with horrified regret. "What?"
"He never told you because he wanted it to be a surprise," Nathan said softly. "You destroyed him to steal what he was already planning to give you."
Juliette stared at him, the full, unbearable weight of her greed finally crushing her spirit. She didn't speak again. She simply sat there, trembling, as the receiver slipped from her fingers and dangled against the metal cord.
May you like
Nathan slowly hung up his receiver. He stood up, adjusted his coat, and walked toward the heavy security exit.
He didn't hate her anymore. Hate required energy, and all of Nathan’s energy was needed elsewhere. He left his sister in the cold, gray confines of the prison, knowing that the cage she had built for herself was far stronger than any iron bars the state could provide.
