Chapter 5 - The Walls Close In
The transition from a penthouse in Gold Coast to an eight-by-ten concrete holding cell was a catastrophic shock to Grant Mercer's system.
He sat on a rusted metal bunk, wearing a coarse orange jumpsuit, his hands trembling as he stared at the stained concrete floor.
The designer cologne was gone, replaced by the pungent stench of industrial disinfectant and stale bread.
Every fifteen minutes, other inmates shouted insults through the bars, mocking the fallen billionaire whose face was plastered across every television screen in the dayroom.
At 2:00 P.M. the following afternoon, Grant was escorted in heavy chains to the soundproof visitor booth.
He sat behind the thick glass divider, eagerly picking up the black telephone handset when he saw Evelyn sit down on the other side.
"Mother! Thank God!" Grant gasped, pressing his face against the glass.
"You have to get Arthur to withdraw the charges! Call the district attorney! Tell them it was a misunderstanding!"
Evelyn picked up the receiver slowly, holding it to her ear with calm, chilling detachment.
"There was no misunderstanding, Grant," she said evenly.
"I watched the surveillance footage three times. I watched you look at your pregnant wife lying in the rain while that woman twisted her shoe into her bones."
"I was in shock, Mother!" he lied frantically, his eyes darting wildly.
"Claire was screaming, the donors were watching—I was trying to prevent a media catastrophe!"
"You caused the catastrophe, Grant," Evelyn replied, her voice dropping into a register that made him shiver.
"Arthur Vance deposed Dr. Sterling this morning. The psychiatrist broke under cross-examination in less than twenty minutes."
"He surrendered the audio recordings you made in his office, where you explicitly stated that you wanted Claire drugged and committed so you could liquidate her father's port assets."
Grant froze, the receiver slipping half an inch in his sweaty palm.
"He... he recorded me?" Grant whispered, the blood draining from his lips.
"Every word, Grant," Evelyn stated.
"The federal grand jury is indicting you tomorrow morning for wire fraud, securities manipulation, witness tampering, and attempted kidnapping."
"You are facing twenty-five years in federal prison."
Grant slammed the receiver against the glass divider, cracking the plastic housing.
"You can't do this to me!" he roared, his face turning an ugly, mottled purple.
"I am your only son! I carry the Mercer name! If you bury me, you destroy the legacy!"
Evelyn stood up from her chair, smoothing the fabric of her coat with deliberate, unhurried grace.
"The Mercer name does not belong to cowards who brutalize pregnant women, Grant," she said softly through the speaker.
May you like
"The Mercer name belongs to the child Claire is carrying right now. And you will never lay eyes on that baby for the rest of your life."
She hung up the receiver, turned her back on her screaming, thrashing son, and walked out into the corridor without a single backward glance.
