Chapter 13 - The Wall Behind the Bars
The following morning at dawn, a black convoy of armored Suburbans cut through the heavy gray fog surrounding the Federal Correctional Institution in Danbury, Connecticut.
Ethan Hawthorne walked down the reinforced concrete corridor of the maximum-security visitation wing. He didn't wear a casual sweater today. He wore a tailored three-piece charcoal suit, his cufflinks gleaming, his aura radiating such sheer, terrifying authority that even the armed federal corrections officers instinctively stepped aside, avoiding his icy stare.
On the other side of the three-inch bulletproof partition sat Vanessa Sterling.
Fourteen months in a federal penitentiary had stripped away the silk couture, the diamond choker, and the manicured veneer of the high-society heiress. Her platinum hair was limp and streaked with gray; her face was gaunt, bruised near the cheekbone from prison skirmishes. But when she saw Ethan sit down, her lips curled into that familiar, venomous, sociopathic smirk.
She picked up the plastic telephone receiver. Ethan picked up his.
"Did you miss me, darling?" she purred, her voice raspy through the static-heavy receiver. "Or did the nanny’s cheap perfume finally wear off?"
"Someone left a package on my lawn last night, Vanessa," Ethan said, not blinking. His voice was chillingly devoid of emotion. "Caroline’s ring. And a recording of her last breath."
Vanessa’s smirk wavered. For a split second, genuine shock flickered across her sunken eyes, replaced rapidly by a frantic, jagged panic.
"You're lying," she hissed, leaning her face against the scratched acrylic glass. "That ring is at the bottom of the Hudson River. Nobody could have—"
"You swore under oath you never took it," Ethan interrupted, leaning forward. His eyes locked onto hers with the weight of an executioner's blade. "You swore you had nothing to do with Caroline’s car. You told the judge you only threw Sophie because the child was 'disobedient.' But Caroline knew about the Ouroboros trust before she hit that guardrail. She knew you were sent to clear the board."
Vanessa suddenly dropped the smug facade. She gripped the telephone so hard her knuckles turned white, her eyes darting nervously toward the two guards stationed behind her.
"Ethan, listen to me," she whispered, her voice trembling with raw, unvarnished dread. "You think I threw that little brat because I wanted your money? I threw her toward the grass because there was a sniper in the tree line behind the pool house!"
Ethan remained impassive. "You expect me to believe you were saving her?"
"I was trying to trigger the perimeter alarm!" Vanessa’s voice cracked into frantic hysteria. "If I didn't act insane, if I didn't get myself arrested and thrown into a federal cage with four walls and federal marshals, they would have butchered me in my sleep just like they did Caroline! They don't want your money, Ethan. They want the Hawthorne bloodline eradicated so the syndicate assets revert to the founding charter!"
"Who is 'they', Vanessa?"
Vanessa looked at him, tears of terror leaking down her hollow cheeks. "Who managed Caroline's estate after she died? Who was the only person with the security code to your Rhode Island safe? Who brought me to your charity gala two months after her funeral?"
Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs like a sledgehammer.
*Marcus.*
Before Ethan could speak, a sudden commotion erupted behind Vanessa. Two female inmates in orange jumpsuits stepped into the visitation stall behind her. One carried an industrial mop handle; the other held a sharpened toothbrush shank concealed beneath a towel.
"Visiting hours are over, bitch," a cold voice rasped.
"Ethan! Help me!" Vanessa screamed into the receiver.
The glass partition vibrated violently as the shank was driven into Vanessa’s neck. Blood sprayed across the inside of the bulletproof glass, painting the clear surface in a horrific, dripping curtain of crimson. The alarms wailed, red emergency lights began stroking the concrete walls, and guards rushed in with batons raised.
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Through the blood-streaked glass, Vanessa collapsed to the floor, her dying eyes locked onto Ethan, her bloody fingers writing a single letter on the glass before going limp:
*M.*
