Chapter 17 - The Final Confrontation
|
The federal penitentiary was a bleak, terrifying fortress of concrete and razor wire, located three hours outside of the city. I never intended to visit this horrible place, but my lawyers needed one final, legally binding signature from Dominic to completely sever his last remaining ties to a minor, heavily restricted offshore trust account.
I sat in the sterile, heavily guarded visitation room. The heavy steel door buzzed loudly, and Dominic was escorted into the room by two armed guards.
He wore a standard orange jumpsuit. He looked drastically older. The arrogant, charming billionaire facade was entirely gone, replaced by the hollow, haunted look of a man who had lost absolutely everything.
He sat down on the metal chair opposite me, separated by a thick pane of bulletproof glass. He picked up the heavy black phone receiver. I picked up mine.
"You actually came," Dominic rasped, his voice sounding weak and desperate. "I thought you would send your lawyers."
"My lawyers are busy running the company you nearly destroyed," I replied coldly, sliding the legal document and a pen through the small security slot at the bottom of the glass. "Sign the paper, Dominic. It relinquishes your final claim to the Cayman accounts."
Dominic looked at the paper, but he didn't pick up the pen. He looked up at my face, his eyes filling with pathetic, manipulative tears.
"Elena, please," he begged, pressing his hand against the glass. "I am dying in here. The isolation is driving me insane. I miss you. I miss Leo. If you just talk to the judge, if you tell them I am reformed—"
"Stop," I interrupted, my voice dropping to a freezing, absolute zero. "Do not say my son's name. You do not get to use the child you terrorized as a bargaining chip for your freedom."
"I am his father!" Dominic yelled, slamming his fist against the table.
"You were his nightmare," I corrected effortlessly, totally unfazed by his sudden anger. "And now you are nothing. Sign the paper, Dominic. Or I will have my lawyers drain the account through litigation, and you won't even get the meager commissary allowance I agreed to leave you."
Dominic glared at me, his jaw clenched in pure, impotent rage. He snatched the pen, signed the document aggressively, and shoved it back through the slot.
May you like
"You are a monster," he spat.
"I am the monster you created," I smiled, standing up and hanging up the phone. I walked out of the prison, leaving him permanently trapped in his cage.
