Chapter 8 - The Fateful Meeting at Suffolk Prison
A heavy afternoon downpour lashed against the Suffolk County jail, creating long, blurry streaks on the reinforced glass windows. Claire walked into the prisoner visitation room with a proud stride. She no longer needed to hide her fatigue or fear. Behind the thick bulletproof glass sat Ethan—gaunt, hollow-eyed, his oversized orange jumpsuit exposing the total collapse of a man once at the peak of prestige.
Ethan raised his head, his gaze revealing a complex mix of belated remorse and sheer terror. "Claire... why are you here? My lawyers said you're digging into dangerous territory."
"Digging?" Claire offered a cold, humorless smile, her voice cutting through the intercom phone. "Ethan, did you think you told me all your secrets? The fifteen million dollar transfer on the exact night Daniel was murdered... where did it go? Who is pulling the strings behind you and Madeline?"
Ethan trembled, his handcuffed hands tightly gripping one another. He glanced around the visiting room as if fearing the walls had eyes and ears. "You don't understand, Claire... He isn't someone we can cross. He’s an underground billionaire with ties all the way up to the state's judicial system. If I talk, you and the kids won't survive the week."
"You sold your soul to the devil, Ethan, but you don't have the right to drag my family down to hell with you," Claire countered firmly, her gaze sharp as a razor. "If you don't want the rest of your life in prison stripped of legal protection entirely, tell me his name."
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Ethan bowed his head, true tears of remorse finally streaming down onto the cold metal table. He whispered three short names that made Claire's blood run cold.
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