Chapter 8 - The Price of Arrogance
I looked at him through the glass, feeling nothing but a profound, liberating stillness.
"My father didn't manufacture those charges, Carter. He just turned on the lights so the world could see the roaches."
"Clara, please!" he begged, his palms smearing against the glass. "What about our son?! A boy needs his father! You can't raise him without me!"
"His name is Robert," I said, my voice steady as an anchor. "And he will never know your name. Yesterday, the family court granted my petition for sole, unchallengeable legal and physical custody. Your parental rights have been permanently terminated under felony endangerment statutes. On his birth certificate, the space for father is marked: Unknown."
Carter’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. "You... you erased me?!"
"You erased yourself the moment you threw my phone across that kitchen floor while I was bleeding," I replied. "You told me that night that your uncle was a prosecutor and that I would never win a damn thing. Do you remember saying that?"
Carter bowed his head against the partition, sobbing uncontrollably.
"The state prosecutor informed me this morning that they are not offering you a plea bargain," I continued. "With your financial crimes combined with the assault and deprivation of emergency services, you are facing twenty-two years without parole. When you finally walk out of a federal penitentiary, Robert will be graduating from the Naval Academy. He will be a man of honor. A man who protects women, who serves his country, and who never bows to bullies."
"Clara, don't leave me here! Eleanor is sick! She won't survive prison!"
"Your mother made her bed when she told me a baby requires discipline in the womb," I said coldly. "Now she can spend the next decade enjoying the discipline of the state corrections department."
I set the receiver back on its cradle.
May you like
Carter began beating his fists against the glass, screaming soundless pleas as two armed guards hauled him backward by his collar, dragging him kicking and crying back into the dark corridors of the prison.
I turned around, adjusted the collar of my coat, and walked out into the crisp, clean autumn air.
