Chapter 9 - Negotiation in HellOtisville Federal Prison was a massive block of grey concrete, freezing cold and reeking of absolute despair. It was the exact opposite of the luxurious mansions Ethan Cole used to rule from.
Alexander was not permitted in the high-security visitation room. Only I, acting as the ex-wife carrying a forged legal proxy (brilliantly arranged by Alexander’s team), was allowed to sit across from him.
The room had cinderblock walls and a single metal table bolted to the floor. Two guards stood with their arms crossed in the corner.
The heavy steel door groaned open. Ethan walked in.
He wore a baggy, bright orange jumpsuit. The hair he used to style so meticulously was long and unkempt. His face was gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes, but the cruel, sociopathic arrogance in his gaze hadn't changed one bit. He looked at me, his lips curling into a sick, twisted smile.
"Amelia," he rasped, sitting down in the metal chair opposite me. His handcuffs clinked sharply against the table. "I knew you would come. Red is definitely your color. Much better than those cheap gardening clothes you wear at Blue Ridge."
I didn't blink. I didn't show a single ounce of the disgust churning in my stomach. I rested my forearms on the metal table, looking dead into the eyes of the man who had tried to destroy my life.
"Let's skip the games, Ethan. What do you want?"
Ethan laughed, leaning back in his chair. "I don't want anything, Amelia. I just wanted to see my lovely wife. I hear you're sleeping with Alexander Sterling? The man is a shark. Do you really think he's helping you out of love? He just wants my one hundred and fifty million dollars."
"It's not your money. It is money you defrauded from thousands of investors," I replied, my voice hard as steel. "And you used my name to open the accounts. Give me the USB drive, Ethan. If you don't, I will let Alexander shred your last remaining shell company, and you won't have a single penny when you get out."
Ethan leaned forward, his eyes turning pitch black. "You think you can threaten me? I hid that USB drive where no one will ever find it. Unless you meet my terms."
"What terms?"
"Recant the testimonies from the Danielle Price Fund," Ethan hissed through his teeth. "Sign a public affidavit stating that all allegations of financial manipulation and emotional abuse were fabricated by your lawyers to seize my assets. Clear my name. If you do that, I'll give you the code for the USB, and you can take the money and live happily ever after with Sterling."
He wanted me to crush my own dignity. He wanted me to betray all the women I had fought to protect. He wanted to prove that, in the end, he still owned me.
I looked at him in total silence for five seconds. Then, I laughed. It wasn't a forced, nervous laugh. It was a loud, chilling, triumphant laugh that echoed against the cinderblock walls.
Ethan frowned, confusion flashing across his face. "What is so funny?"
I leaned forward, closing the distance between us.
"Did you honestly think I came here to beg you, Ethan?" I whispered, every word a dagger aimed directly at his ego. "Did you think I need that USB drive to save myself? I just recorded this entire conversation on a military-grade audio transmitter hidden inside my coat button."
Ethan’s eyes went wide. He stared at the brass button on my coat.
"You just confessed to hiding one hundred and fifty million dollars. You confessed to identity theft. You also just attempted to extort a federal witness," I smiled ruthlessly. "Alexander doesn't need the USB drive anymore. This recording is enough for the FBI to permanently seize the Cayman accounts, and I am granted full immunity for cooperating in your prosecution."
"You're lying!" Ethan screamed, slamming his cuffed hands onto the metal table, trying to lunge at me.
The two guards instantly surged forward, grabbing his shoulders and pinning him violently back into the chair.
"You are the liar, Ethan," I stood up, looking down at him as he thrashed in absolute desperation. "You thought I was still your puppet. But I picked up the scissors and cut all the strings. You are going to die an old man in this steel cage, with no money, no power, and absolutely no one to remember your name."
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"Amelia! You bitch!" He roared, his face turning purple, spit flying from his mouth as the guards dragged him forcefully toward the door.
I turned my back to him and calmly walked out of the visitation room. Behind me, Ethan’s screams faded away, completely cut off as the heavy metal door slammed shut. The nightmare was finally over. There were no chains left to hold me.
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