Chapter 13 - The Jailhouse Plea
Two days later, I received a frantic request for a visitation meeting from David's public defender at the Harris County Jail.
I wore a tailored navy suit, kept my hair pulled back neatly, and walked into the glass-partitioned visitation room with calm grace.
David sat on the other side of the thick glass, wearing an orange jumpsuit, his eyes sunken and bloodshot from days of crying.
He picked up the black plastic telephone receiver with hands that shook uncontrollably.
"Hannah... thank God you came," David whimpered, pressing his palm against the glass.
"Please... you have to talk to the district attorney... they're charging me with federal wire fraud..."
"I'm facing ten to fifteen years in a federal penitentiary, Hannah... I won't survive in there..."
I picked up my phone receiver, looking at him with absolute, unyielding coldness.
"You survived four years of stealing from my dead father, David," I said, my voice smooth and devoid of all emotion.
"You survived watching your mother try to throw your wife and daughter out onto the street."
"Hannah, she manipulated me! She told me you were planning to divorce me and take Chloe away!" David lied desperately.
"She said she was protecting our family's future!"
"Your mother didn't forge my signature on that quitclaim deed alone, David," I replied, cutting him off mid-sentence.
"The handwriting analyst confirmed yesterday that you were the one who signed my name on the Delaware filing."
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David froze, his jaw dropping open as the phone receiver slipped slightly from his ear.
He realized in that single, terrifying second that his lies could no longer protect him.
