Chapter 6 - The Visitor in Chains
Three days later, I was discharged from the hospital. The baby was thriving, her movements strong and consistent. My lip had begun to heal into a faint pink line—a permanent reminder of the morning my blindness ended.
Before filing the final protective orders, I did something my lawyer advised against, but which my soul demanded. I went to the Suffolk County Jail.
The visitation room was sterile, separated by thick, scratched polycarbonate glass. When the heavy metal door clicked open on the other side, Grant shuffled in. The contrast was staggering. Gone was the custom-tailored Tom Ford suit, the diamond cufflinks, and the coiffed hair. He wore a bright orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on his frame. His eyes were bloodshot, sunken, and wild.
He sat down heavily on the steel stool and picked up the black plastic receiver.
I picked up mine.
"You look awful, Grant," I said softly.
"Emma, please," he began immediately, his voice cracking against the receiver's diaphragm. "Please, you have to listen to me. It was all Vanessa. She manipulated me. She got into my head! She knew I was stressed about the investments, and she—she took advantage of me!"
"Vanessa is currently being held on two million dollars bail," I replied coolly. "She told the prosecutor that you promised her my mother’s jewelry as an engagement present once you 'handled' me."
Grant slammed his free fist against the partition. "She's lying! She's a gold-digging sociopath! Emma, we have a child coming. Our daughter! You can't let her be born with her father in prison. What will people say? How will she grow up?"
"She will grow up knowing her mother refused to be a victim," I said, placing my hand over my swollen stomach. "She will grow up knowing that a man who strikes a woman is not a father. He is a coward."
"I was under pressure!" he pleaded, pressing his palms against the glass, leaving greasy streaks on the surface. "The market collapsed on the Singapore trades! I was going to replace the trust money, I swear to God! I just needed time! If you bail me out—just post the cash bail—I will fix everything. I’ll go to counseling. I’ll sign whatever you want!"
"You've already signed everything," I said, holding up a manila folder against the glass so he could read the title.
It was the final decree of absolute divorce and complete surrender of parental rights, drafted under the emergency marital fraud statutes.
"If you sign this today, Grant, the district attorney has agreed not to pursue the maximum statutory enhancement for the wire fraud charges. You'll serve seven years instead of twenty. If you refuse? We go to trial. I will put the audio of you slapping me on the jumbo screens in the courtroom. I will let the jury hear you sneer at your unborn child. And I will ensure you spend the next two decades in a federal penitentiary."
Grant stared at the document, his breath fogging up the glass. "You... you stripped my parental rights? She’s my daughter!"
"She stopped being your daughter the moment you raised your hand against the belly that carries her," I said with an icy, unyielding finality. "Sign the paper, Grant. It's the only negotiation you have left in this life."
His hands shook uncontrollably as the guard slid the legal clip through the security slot. Grant picked up the cheap plastic pen. He looked at me, searching for even an ember of the gentle, compliant girl he had married a decade ago.
May you like
He found nothing but stone.
With a trembling hand, he scribbled his signature on the dotted line.
