Chapter 10
Deep within the maximum-security federal penitentiary in upstate New York, Clara sat in solitary confinement. Her ruby red silk wrap dress was long gone, replaced by a coarse, scratchy orange prison uniform.
The concrete walls of her windowless cell seemed to press inward, suffocating her with the sheer weight of her choices. She stared blankly at the metal door, replaying that rainy midnight when she tossed the wedding ring into the mud.
She had thought she was casting aside a broken, helpless cripple who was entirely dependent on her wealth. Instead, she had awakened an apex predator who systematically dismantled her entire existence within twenty-four hours.
Footsteps echoed down the sterile hallway, followed by the heavy clank of keys turning in the iron cell lock. A prison guard slid a tray of unappetizing food through the narrow slot at the bottom of the steel door.
"You have a legal mail delivery from your former corporate holding company," the guard announced with a sneer. Clara didn't move, her eyes hollow and devoid of any remaining warmth or arrogant defiance she once possessed.
May you like
The envelope contained a single piece of heavy white paper bearing the official letterhead of Vance Industries. Written across the center in clean, typed black ink were eight words that shattered her final remnants of sanity:
"You were nothing without my money."
