Chapter 35 - Whispers from the Cell
The maximum-security wing of the state correctional facility smelled of industrial bleach and defeat.
Heavy steel doors buzzed open, echoing with a hollow clang as Julian and I entered the visitation booth. Separated from us by three inches of bulletproof glass sat Brooke Sterling.
The glamorous, arrogant mistress who had once strutted through my penthouse in silk dresses, laughing cruelly as my son crawled like an animal at her feet, was completely gone. In her place sat an emaciated woman in an orange jumpsuit, her platinum hair limp and greasy, her cheekbones hollow, her manicured hands bruised from prison labor.
When her sunken eyes landed on me, she flinched, shrinking back into her plastic chair as if expecting a blow.
"Clara," Brooke croaked, her voice trembling. "Did... did Arthur send you to finish me off?"
"Arthur doesn't care about you, Brooke," I said coldly, sitting across from her and picking up the receiver. "To him, you were always just an easily replaceable tool. A distraction while he laundered billions."
Brooke began to weep, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. "I know. The moment I was arrested, he cut off my lawyers. He emptied my trust fund. He left me to rot in here with life sentences hanging over my head."
"He attacked the gala tonight," I stated bluntly. "He tried to shoot Leo on stage."
Brooke gasped, genuine shock flickering in her eyes before collapsing into bitter despair. "He’s insane. He won't stop until Leo is either dead or under his thumb. He believes Leo’s bloodline contains the key to the family trust in Zurich."
"I don't care about his money," I leaned forward, my knuckles pressing against the counter. "He kidnapped Evelyn’s daughter to force her cooperation. Evelyn said you handled the offshore shell accounts that funded his private security islands. Give me the coordinates, Brooke."
Brooke laughed bitterly, wiping her nose with her sleeve. "Why should I help you? You destroyed my life!"
"Because Arthur left you here to die," I whispered, my voice cutting through the receiver with absolute certainty. "And the moment Arthur reclaims his empire, the first loose thread he will silence permanently inside this prison... is you. You give me those coordinates, and I will have Julian transfer you to a federal witness protection facility under solitary protective custody. You will live. Deny me, and Arthur’s prison shanks will find your heart by sunrise."
Brooke swallowed hard, terror draining the last bit of color from her face. With trembling fingers, she picked up the greasy pen beside her and scribbled a twelve-digit cipher onto a scrap of paper, pressing it against the partition.
May you like
"The old lighthouse estate off Devil's Shoal," Brooke whispered, terrified. "He calls it the Iron Spire. He’s there right now, Clara... waiting for his private yacht to take him outside international waters."
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