Chapter 9 - THE CONFRONTATION AT METROPOLITAN CORRECTIONAL
Two weeks later.
The Metropolitan Correctional Center in downtown Chicago is a stark, intimidating concrete tower designed to hold high-profile federal detainees awaiting trial.
I sat in a private visitor’s room behind a thick pane of bulletproof glass.
I was wearing a sharp, tailored burgundy suit, my hair fully styled, looking healthy, vibrant, and completely restored. The brain tumor was a ghost of the past.
The heavy steel door on the opposite side of the glass buzzed open.
A guard led Alejandro Vance into the room.
He wore an orange jumpsuit. His wrists were cuffed to a chain around his waist. He had lost at least fifteen pounds in two weeks; his face was gaunt, his eyes hollowed out with deep dark circles. The suave, arrogant man who had walked into my hospital room in a Tom Ford suit was completely gone.
He sat down heavily on the metal stool and picked up the telephone receiver.
I picked up mine.
“Camila...” his voice sounded hollow, echoing through the phone line.
I didn't speak. I simply looked at him, letting the silence stretch between us.
“Why did you come here?” he asked, his voice cracking. “To gloat? To watch me suffer?”
“No,” I said calmly. “I came here to deliver a final document to you.”
I tapped the glass. On my side, Marcus Thorne slid a single sheet of paper under the small slot at the bottom of the window.
It was the final decree of divorce, issued by the Cook County Family Court, officially severing our marriage and completely stripping Alejandro of any right to use the surname 'Vance'.
“You are officially Alejandro Gomez again,” I said softly. “You have no ties to my family, my money, or my legacy.”
Alejandro looked at the paper through the glass, tears brimming in his tired eyes.
“Camila... please,” he begged, pressing his forehead against the cold glass. “I’m facing twelve years in federal prison. My parents had to sell their house in Gary just to pay for my initial legal retainers. I have nothing left. Claudia took Liam and moved away. I have nobody.”
“You had me, Alejandro,” I reminded him quietly. “You had a woman who loved you, who protected your pride, who funded your dreams, and who was willing to share her life with you. But you traded all of it because you thought I was weak. You traded it for greed.”
“I made a mistake!” he sobbed, his shoulders shaking beneath the orange jumpsuit. “I was foolish! I was scared you were going to die!”
“No, Alejandro,” I corrected him, my voice firm and uncompromising. “You weren't scared I was going to die. You were scared I was going to live.”
He fell silent, unable to refute the absolute truth of my words.
I stood up from my chair, smoothing the lapels of my burgundy suit.
May you like
“Goodbye, Alejandro,” I said. “Enjoy the life you built for yourself.”
I hung up the phone receiver, turned my back on the glass window, and walked out of the visitor's room without looking back once. Behind me, I could hear his muffled cries echoing through the reinforced door as the guards led him back to his cell.
