Chapter 55 - The Glass Divide
I did not move toward the glass. I remained seated upright in the steel chair, my posture regal, my face an impenetrable mask of cold marble, Julian standing silently behind my right shoulder like an executioner waiting for the decree.
"You have ten minutes, Jason," I said through the intercom, my voice utterly devoid of warmth. "Speak quickly."
"Francesca, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything!" Jason pleaded, tears streaming down his gaunt cheeks, smearing against the glass. "Nicole... Nicole played me! She and Matthew set the trap from the very beginning! They told me if I didn't get your signature on the Zurich releases, they would destroy Vance Capital and expose my father's offshore accounts! I was terrified! I only took Nicole into the penthouse to keep her quiet!"
"Do not insult my intelligence with your cowardice, Jason," I interrupted, my tone cutting through his hysterical rambling like a scalpel. "You threw eleven years of my life into the gutter. You signed the divorce papers while I was bleeding in an emergency clinic. You left me with nothing, flaunting your mistress across Manhattan and laughing at my downfall."
Jason recoiled as if struck, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. "I was a fool, Francesca! A blind, arrogant fool! But you have to believe me—they are going to murder me in here! Last night, two guards were reassigned. A prisoner from the Sicilian syndicate was moved into the cell across from mine. Matthew Ross has put a half-million-euro bounty on my head to ensure I never testify before the International Criminal Court!"
"Then give us the ledgers," Julian said, stepping into the microphone's pickup range. His voice was razor-sharp, carrying the terrifying authority of a man who commanded legions. "Give Francesca the keys to the Swiss trusts and the names of the magistrates. You give us the weapons to dismantle Matthew Ross completely, and we might consider arranging a transfer to a military facility."
Jason looked up at Julian, terror flashing in his eyes, but then his gaze darted behind us—toward the observation mirror where Arthur stood watching from the adjoining chamber.
A sudden, manic twitch distorted Jason's face. He leaned violently forward against the glass, his voice dropping into a desperate, frantic rasp.
"You don't understand, Francesca!" Jason hissed, his eyes wide with genuine horror. "You think you're safe because your father has returned from the dead? You think Arthur Kingswood came back out of paternal love?!"
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My blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"
"Arthur was the one who designed the financial syndicate thirty years ago!" Jason spat, spittle hitting the glass partition. "My father and Charles Ross didn't invent the scheme—they were Arthur's junior partners! Arthur faked his death not to protect you, but to avoid an indictment from the Department of Justice! He let you rot in obscurity until you were old enough to unlock the trust! If you activate the Zurich accounts, Francesca, Arthur doesn't just dismantle Matthew Ross... he takes sole ownership of everything your mother died trying to protect!"
