Chapter 17 - Mark Realizes His Wife Controlled Everything From Day One
Federal prison visiting hours at the Ohio correctional facility were cold, sterile, and intensely depressing. Mark sat across a scratched metal table in the secure visitation booth, wearing his bright orange inmate jumpsuit. His hair was uncombed, his face unshaven, and his once-arrogant posture was completely broken down by weeks of confinement. The heavy metal door buzzed open, and I walked into the booth wearing an immaculate cream-colored trench coat and designer sunglasses.
I sat down slowly across from him, resting my leather tote bag on the metal table without saying a single word. Mark stared at me with hollow, bloodshot eyes, his lower lip trembling as he gripped the edge of the steel table.
"Laura... please. You have to help me. Julian Vance won't even return my phone calls," Mark begged pathetically. I removed my sunglasses, looking straight into his eyes with cold, unblinking detachment.
"Why would I help the man who tried to destroy my father's legacy and steal my company, Mark?" I asked softly. Mark swallowed hard, tears spilling over his lower eyelids and tracking down his hollow, unshaven cheeks.
"I was stupid, Laura. I lost my mind. I thought... I thought I could manage it all on my own," he sobbed. A sharp, bitter smile touched the corners of my lips as I shook my head in utter disbelief.
"You thought you were a genius, Mark, but you never understood the foundational math of our success," I stated calmly. "You were the face that shook hands, but I was the foundation that kept the building from collapsing."
Mark slumped forward, burying his face in his cuffed hands as the devastating reality finally crashed over him. "You controlled everything... from day one..." he choked out through heavy, racking sobs.
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"Yes, Mark. And the moment I decided to stop holding you up, you fell straight down to hell," I replied evenly. I stood up from the metal chair, sliding my sunglasses back over my eyes as the guard unlocked the visitation door.
"Goodbye, Mark. Enjoy the rest of your life reflecting on your terrible business decisions," I whispered before walking out.
