Chapter 9 - A Visit to the Dark
Two months later. January.
The sky over San Francisco was overcast, a cold winter rain tapping against the high narrow windows of the San Bruno County Jail visitations facility.
I sat behind a thick pane of bulletproof glass in a private visitor room. I wore a simple white wool sweater and a black coat. My stomach was now noticeably round—seven months pregnant, healthy, and glowing.
The heavy steel door on the opposite side of the glass buzzed and unlocked.
A guard led Richard into the room.
He was unrecognizable.
The charismatic, impeccably dressed billionaire was gone. In his place sat a gaunt, hollow man wearing a faded orange jumpsuit. His dark hair was shaved close to his scalp, his skin was pale and sallow under the harsh fluorescent lights, and deep black circles shadowed his sunken eyes. His wrists were chained to his waist band.
He sat down heavily on the metal stool, staring at me through the glass. He didn't pick up the phone handset at first. He just stared at my prominent baby bump with an expression of pure, hollow defeat.
Slowly, I picked up the black plastic handset on my side of the glass.
Richard hesitated, then picked up his phone with trembling fingers.
"Why are you here, Amelia?" his voice came through the earpiece, raspy, weak, and completely devoid of its former smooth charm. "To gloat? To watch me rot?"
"No, Richard," I said calmly, looking him straight in his eyes. "I came to bring you the final settlement papers."
Richard let out a bitter, raspy laugh. "Settlement papers? I have nothing left. The government seized my assets. Mercer’s creditors took my house. My firm went into liquidation last month. I'm facing forty years without parole. What else could you possibly take from me?"
"Nothing," I said softly. "I'm not taking anything. I came to inform you that I have signed a full legal name restoration. My child will carry the name Hayes. Your name will not appear on the birth certificate, nor will you ever have parental rights, contact, or legal standing in this child's life."
Richard flinched as if I had struck him across the face.
"She’s my daughter too..." he whispered, a crack of desperate emotion finally breaking through his hollow exterior.
"You lost the right to call her your daughter the second you pushed her mother out of a helicopter at three thousand feet," I said, my voice cold, precise, and absolute. "She will grow up knowing her mother built a world of security and truth. She will never know your weakness, your greed, or your cruelty."
Tears began to spill down Richard’s hollow cheeks, but they weren't tears of anger or arrogance anymore—they were the pathetic tears of a man who realized he had traded an extraordinary life for an empty iron cell.
"Amelia..." he choked out, pressing his trembling hand against the thick glass. "Please... I’m sorry... I lost my mind... the debt, Mercer... I was desperate..."
"Desperation reveals character, Richard," I said, standing up smoothly from my chair, holding my coat around myself. "And yours was empty."
I hung up the phone handset, sliding it back onto the wall hook.
May you like
Richard slammed his fist against the glass, screaming something I could no longer hear through the soundproof barrier as the guards grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back toward the cell block.
I turned my back on him and walked out into the bright rain-washed afternoon, leaving the dark behind me forever.
