Three hours after saying “I do,” I watched my father-in-law hit his wife across the face.

Three days later.

The Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn was a stark, oppressive concrete structure overlooking the industrial docks. I stood in a private visitor room, separated from the interior corridor by a thick panel of bulletproof glass.

The heavy steel door on the opposite side opened, and a guard ushered Daniel inside.

He looked unrecognizable. The tailored Italian suit, the styled hair, and the arrogant smile were gone. He wore an oversized orange jumpsuit, his right hand encased in a heavy blue medical cast supporting his broken thumb, his nose taped tightly with surgical bandages. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes.

He sat down heavily on the stool, picking up the silver intercom phone with his left hand.

I picked up my receiver, holding it to my ear, watching him through the glass.

"Are you happy now, Claire?" Daniel rasped, his voice hollow, stripped of all its former pomposity. "You destroyed my family. You destroyed my life."

"You destroyed your own life, Daniel," I said, my tone flat, unbothered by his pity party. "The moment you lifted your hand against your mother, and the moment you struck me, you made your choice."

Daniel let out a bitter, dry laugh. "My father was right about you. You're a cold, calculating viper. You planned this from the start, didn't you? You married me just to tear down Carter Global!"

"Don't flatter yourself," I replied coldly. "I loved you, Daniel. Or at least, I loved the lie you sold me for six months. I thought you were a kind, intelligent man who wanted to build a life together. I had no idea you were a coward who beat women and laundered blood money for criminals."

Daniel slammed his cast against the metal counter, his eyes flashing with a sudden, desperate anger. "I had no choice! My father ran everything! If I didn't sign those wire transfers, he would have cut me out of the estate! He would have ruined me!"

"You always have a choice," I told him, leaning closer to the glass. "Your mother spent thirty years being beaten by that man, and yet she had the courage to steal those ledgers and hand them to me. She was braver than you will ever be."

Daniel looked down at his lap, his shoulders slumping as reality crushed whatever remained of his ego.

"How long?" he asked, his voice cracking. "How long am I going to be in here?"

"Your lawyer is trying to negotiate a plea deal," I informed him. "Twelve years in a medium-security facility, provided you testify fully against your father and his syndicate associates."

Twelve years. He would be forty-two when he walked out of prison—his youth, his wealth, and his status entirely erased.

"And my mother?" Daniel asked softly, looking up at me through the glass. "Does she... does she want to see me?"

"No," I said simply. "She's moving to California next week. She has a new house, a new team of doctors, and a life entirely free of the Carter name. She never wants to hear your voice again."

Daniel closed his eyes, tears finally leaking down his cheeks, staining the white tape across his broken nose.

I hung up the phone receiver, set it neatly back on its hook, and stood up from my chair.