Chapter 8 - The Prison Visit
Three weeks later, I sat in the non-contact visitation room of the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn.
The room smelled of floor wax, stale coffee, and institutional despair.
A thick pane of reinforced glass separated me from the steel chair on the other side.
The heavy metal door clicked open.
A corrections officer escorted Daniel Whitmore into the room.
He wore a faded orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on his gaunt frame.
His hair was unwashed, his five-thousand-dollar veneers were dull, and his hands trembled as he picked up the gray plastic telephone receiver.
I lifted my receiver, pressing it against my ear.
"Claire," Daniel croaked through the static line.
He pressed his open palm against the glass, his eyes begging for any sign of the wife who had once folded his laundry and packed his vitamins.
"You look thin, Daniel," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion.
"It’s hell in here, Claire," he wept, tears instantly tracking through the stubble on his face. "Marcus is in the west wing on suicide watch. The other inmates... they know what we did. They know about the pension money."
"You shouldn't have stolen from working-class people, Daniel," I replied.
"The lawyers told me the sentencing guidelines are six to eight years," he stammered, his breath fogging the glass. "Please, Claire. You control the company now. You can tell the judge we reached a private restitution settlement! You can ask for leniency!"
"I met with the U.S. Attorney yesterday, Daniel," I said calmly.
Daniel’s eyes flared with a desperate, pathetic hope. "Did you? What did you tell him?"
"I told him that the board of Montgomery Harbor Logistics will not be requesting leniency," I stated clearly. "In fact, we submitted an additional nineteen forged invoice files that Mr. Bennett uncovered in your Zurich safe deposit box."
Daniel’s hand slipped from the glass as if he had been shot.
"Why?" he cried out, banging his forehead against the pane. "Why are you being so cruel? We were married for five years! We have a daughter together!"
"Lily is my daughter, Daniel," I said, looking through the glass with absolute, unshakeable certainty. "You surrendered your rights when you put another woman's child on that lab slip. The family court signed the sole legal and physical custody decree yesterday afternoon."
Daniel choked on his own breath, his face twisting in agony.
"You will never see Lily again, Daniel," I continued. "When she grows up, she will know that her father was a man who traded his soul for numbers on a screen, and that her mother had the courage to put him in a cage."
"Claire! Don't do this! Claire!" he screamed into the receiver, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.
I didn't answer.
I hung up the plastic telephone, set it back on its cradle, and stood up from the wooden chair.
May you like
The guard stepped forward, grabbing Daniel’s arm as he struggled against the table, screaming my name until his voice gave out.
I walked through the heavy steel security doors into the daylight, never looking back.
