17. In Full View
Chapter seventeen
In Full View
My heels clicked against the scuffed linoleum, a rhythmic, abrasive sound cutting through the sterile corridor of the County Detention Center.
I walked past cinderblock walls painted a dull, institutional gray.
The overhead fluorescent tubes buzzed a relentless, irritating hum, casting unforgiving shadows across the floor.
Bastien matched my pace step for step. We reached the reinforced security door at the end of the corridor. He stopped short of the heavy glass panel, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
“This is your moment,” he said, stepping back into the shadows of the hallway. “I’ll wait right here.”
I paused, turning to face him. I studied the faint scar bisecting his eyebrow, drawing on the quiet strength in his gaze. “I won’t need long.”
“Take as much time as you want. They aren’t going anywhere.”
I grasped the metal handle and pushed the heavy door open.
The air inside the visitor room hit my face, smelling of industrial bleach and stale sweat.
A uniformed deputy stood near the far wall, his thumbs hooked into his duty belt.
I stepped into the room, letting the door swing shut.
The latch engaged behind me, sealing me inside the concrete box.
I smoothed the lapel of my tailored power suit. The rigid cut of the blazer forced my spine straight, refusing to let my shoulders slump. For months, I had hidden in oversized maternity sweaters, keeping my head down and my shoulders rounded. Today, the stiff wool wrapped me in armor.
“You have five minutes, Mrs. Stanton,” the guard stated, pointing to the single metal table bolted to the floor. “No physical contact.”
“Understood,” I said.
I walked to the designated side of the table. I ignored the plastic chair. I stood with my hands resting by my sides, refusing to shrink in the small space.
The deadbolt on the opposite door disengaged with a metallic clack. Two deputies walked into the room, flanking the prisoners. The terrified, pliant girl I used to be vanished the second they crossed the threshold. Seeing them stripped of their curated elegance made my victory undeniable.
Tobias and Lavinia wore standard-issue orange jail scrubs.
The abrasive, synthetic fabric clashed with Lavinia’s pale skin.
Without her expensive fillers and cosmetics, her face looked drawn and haggard under the glaring ceiling lights.
Her platinum bob hung flat and greasy against her cheeks.
She adjusted the cheap collar of her uniform, pulling at the stiff cotton as if it could hide her humiliation.
Tobias followed a step behind her. He walked with his shoulders rounded inward, trying to make himself look smaller. His golden-blond hair was buzzed to the scalp. His bespoke suits were traded for oversized, stiff cotton hanging off his frame.
They shuffled to the plastic chairs and sat down. Even devoid of their wealth and polish, neither of them possessed an ounce of humility. They looked up at me, clinging to the delusion that I was the same naive piggy bank they had manipulated for years.
Tobias leaned across the metal table. He offered a tight, patronizing smile.
“Cecilia,” he said. “Thank God you came. We need to get this sorted out immediately.”
Sorted out. The sheer audacity of his phrasing killed whatever trace of pity I had left. They were actually sitting there, insanely believing I had come to save them from their own trap.
Lavinia folded her raw, unmanicured hands on the table. She stared at me, expecting me to cower the way I always had.
“Tell your lawyers to expedite the bail hearing,” Lavinia demanded, treating me like a confused child. “Tell them it’s all a giant misunderstanding.”
I stared down at them. For months, a single sharp word from Lavinia or a lingering touch from Tobias would have sent me scrambling to show my gratitude and hide my fear. Standing here now, observing the cheap orange fabric hanging off their shoulders, I felt nothing but a cold, absolute disgust.
“Sit down, Cecilia,” Tobias urged, gesturing to the plastic seat across from him. “You’re making a scene.”
Even now, sitting in a county jail, he tried to control the room. He needed me seated. He needed me small.
Gripping the top edge of the plastic chair, I pulled it back. The legs scraped against the scuffed floor, a harsh, screeching noise that bounced off the cinderblock walls. Tobias flinched at the sound.
Taking my seat, I placed my forearms flat on the smooth metal table. The cold from the surface seeped through the sleeves of my blazer, steadying me. I folded my hands together, holding my silence as I watched them breathe the recycled air.
Tobias shifted in his chair, leaning across the metal barrier to get closer. He lowered his voice, slipping into the cloying, intimate cadence he used whenever he needed to bypass my defenses.
“Sweetheart, I know you’re likely very confused,” Tobias said. “But your mother and I couldn’t intervene to help you. We were just so afraid.”
Confused. He was actually trying to play that card.
“And these people…” Tobias shook his head, offering a practiced look of helpless frustration. “They’ve taken it out of context. The police don’t understand the situation.”
I pressed the palms of my hands harder against the chilled steel.
The sheer, unvarnished arrogance required to sit across from me, after handing me over to a syndicate, and claim I was merely confused was staggering.
He believed his country-club charm still functioned.
He believed the golden-boy smile could overwrite felony charges.
Lavinia leaned in next to him, desperate to support the lie. She reached out, stopping just short of the invisible center line the guard had warned us about.
“They say they have some sort of recording,” Lavinia said, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial, maternal whisper. “Cecilia, you must know. It’s doctored. We would never hurt you.”
I looked from my mother’s desperate gray eyes to my husband’s rehearsed, pleading smile. They were waiting for the crack. They were waiting for my shoulders to drop, for the tears to well up, for the docile heiress to believe their lies and call the lawyers.
I leaned back against the plastic chair.
“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” I said.
Tobias stared at me, squinting in the harsh glare of the fluorescent ceiling lights. He shifted in his plastic chair. He reached out, his hand hovering over the center of the table.
“You’re not making any sense, Cecilia,” Tobias said. “The trauma is confusing you. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I braced my arms against the metal table. He still thought I was the broken, naive girl he had hugged at the precinct. He still believed he was the smartest person in the cinderblock room.
I looked at the ugly orange fabric of his collar. I let the silence stretch out, allowing the low, mechanical hum of the overhead lights to fill the space between us.
“I read the burner phone locked in your desk, Tobias,” I said. “The one with your pathetic golf championship PIN code.”
Tobias froze. His hand dropped to the table with a dull smack. The condescending, country-club smile vanished, his entire face going completely slack.
I turned my gaze to my mother. Lavinia sat still, her bare hands trembling against the steel. Her gray roots were exposed, and her cheeks had gone stark white.
“I know exactly how you trapped Dad, Lavinia,” I said.
Lavinia opened her mouth. No sound came out. She looked at Tobias, her eyes wide with panic.
“Tobias,” Lavinia whispered. “What is she talking about?”
He kept his eyes locked on my face, his mouth parting slightly. Watching the color drain from his cheeks was the most satisfying sensation of my life. His country-club composure evaporated right in front of me.
“I know about the Sovereign safe drop,” I continued, keeping my voice level and unhurried. “I know you handed the physical cash directly to your bookies. I know you were sleeping with her in the guest room.”
“Cecilia,” Tobias gasped, gripping the edge of the metal table. “Listen to me—”
“You couldn’t just take the fake ransom and stay at Lavinia’s condo,” I interrupted. “You had to come back into my bedroom to gloat. You had to watch me suffer.”
“She’s so clueless,” I recited, throwing his own words back at him. “Sitting here rubbing her belly, thanking me for saving her.”
I lifted my forearms off the table. I gripped the back of the plastic chair and stood up. The rigid cut of my blazer forced my shoulders back. I looked down at the two monsters who had sold my life for a payout.
“I drafted the trust to give you a motive,” I said. “And I willingly swallowed that walnut oil just to catch you confessing on tape.”
Lavinia let out a sudden, high-pitched whine, pressing her hands against her mouth. She slumped forward, the tension completely vanishing from her shoulders. Tobias scrambled backward in his chair. The plastic legs grated against the linoleum.
“You did this,” Tobias choked out, pointing a shaking finger at me. “You set us up!”
“Enjoy prison,” I said. “Tobias, the estate lawyers will be sending the divorce papers to your cell. You’ll never see me or Petra again.”
I turned my back on them. I walked toward the exit, ignoring the frantic sounds of their pleading. I hit the release bar on the security door and pushed my way out.
I walked out, letting the heavy steel slam shut behind me.
I turned away from the visitor room. Bastien waited near the far wall of the cinderblock hallway. He stepped forward as I approached, looking closely at my expression under the buzzing fluorescent tubes.
“You got exactly what you came for,” Bastien said.
“I got everything,” I replied. “They won’t be a problem anymore. Let’s get out of here.”