Chapter 7 - THE CELL BLOCK VISITOR
The central detention facility smelled of bleach, rust, and damp wool.
At 9:00 AM the following morning, Richard Vale sat across a metal table in an interrogation room, wearing a gray orange jumpsuit. His hair was messy, his jaw covered in stubble, his eyes bloodshot from a night spent on a thin vinyl mattress.
The door opened, and Sarah Vance walked in, holding a single folder.
Richard looked up, hope flashing briefly in his haggard eyes. “Did Evelyn come? Did she send you to negotiate my bail?”
Sarah sat down smoothly, opening the folder. “Ms. Hart-Mercer is currently at home resting under the care of her private medical team. I am here to deliver these.”
She slid three separate legal documents across the stainless steel table.
“What are these?” Richard asked, his hands shaking as he pulled the papers closer.
“First,” Sarah explained, tapping the top page, “is a petition for emergency divorce on the grounds of physical cruelty and financial fraud. You will forfeit all claims to any marital property, including the estate in Blackridge, which was purchased with Mercer-backed funds.”
Richard’s mouth worked silently, no sound coming out.
“Second,” Sarah continued, “is a full surrender of parental rights. You will have no visitation, no custody, and no legal standing regarding the child.”
“No!” Richard gasped, striking the metal table with his fist. “That’s my son! He carries my blood! You can't take my heir away from me!”
Sarah didn't even flinch. She leaned forward, her eyes cold as ice.
“You lost the right to call him your son the second your hand hit his mother’s face in that hospital hallway, Mr. Vale. If you attempt to contest the custody order, we will introduce forty-eight separate counts of felony corporate fraud into the criminal record, ensuring your sentence carries a minimum of twenty-five years without parole.”
Richard shrank back into his chair, his breathing ragged.
“And the third document?” he whispered, his voice broken.
“The third document,” Sarah said with a thin smile, “is the foreclosure notice on your personal properties. Since you used Veil Urban shares as collateral for your personal loans, Apex Capital has seized your penthouse, your cars, and your offshore accounts.”
She handed him a black pen.
“Sign them, Richard. Or spend the rest of your youth in a federal penitentiary.”
May you like
Richard looked at the pen, then at the thick steel door behind Sarah. He realized, with total clarity, that the world he had spent fifteen years building through lies, manipulation, and cruelty had collapsed in less than twelve hours.
With trembling fingers, he took the pen and signed his name on the line.
