Chapter 13 - The Confession on the Record
The state penitentiary’s visitor facility was a sterile expanse of reinforced glass, gray cinderblocks, and armed correctional officers.
Eleanor sat on the opposite side of the reinforced glass divider, wearing a drab orange jumpsuit that clashed violently with her porcelain skin.
The elegance that had once commanded international ballrooms had been completely erased.
Her hair was tied back in an unkempt ponytail; her face was pale, hollow, and lined with sharp wrinkles of bitter defeat.
Marcus sat down on the metal visitor chair, picking up the heavy black receiver attached to the wall.
Eleanor hesitated before lifting her receiver, glaring at him with eyes full of poisonous resentment.
"Are you here to gloat, Marcus?" Eleanor sneered, her voice harsh and flat through the low-quality intercom.
"Did you come to see the great Eleanor Harrington reduced to a numbered convict in an orange suit?"
Marcus looked at her without anger, his gaze empty and detached, seeing only a hollow shell of human greed.
"I came to deliver this," Marcus said, pressing a legal document flat against the glass divider.
It was an irrevocable decree of divorce, accompanied by an absolute forfeiture of all spousal claims against the Harrington trust.
Eleanor’s lips curled into a bitter, self-loathing smile as she glanced down at the paper.
"You think you’ve won, don't you?" she whispered, leaning closer to the perforated metal speaker.
"You think you're the grand protector of the Harrington name."
"I don't care about the name, Eleanor," Marcus answered evenly. "I care about the people you destroyed to possess it."
"Your father built that company on bones, Marcus!" Eleanor hissed, her eyes burning with sudden frenzy.
"He promised me forty percent of the logistics division when he married me to you. Did you know that?"
Marcus remained still, his expression unreadable.
"He treated me like a decorative accessory to secure political connections in the state senate," she continued, her voice trembling with venom.
"I watched him control everything, hoard every asset for Clara’s daughter, while treating me like an unpaid housekeeper with a title."
"So you decided to murder a seven-year-old child?" Marcus asked, his voice chillingly quiet.
Eleanor looked away, her hands shaking slightly against the metal shelf beneath the partition.
"She was never supposed to die," Eleanor muttered, the lie slipping out with practiced ease.
"She was only supposed to be hospitalized long enough to execute the proxy. A concussion, a broken arm... that was the plan."
"You put a paralytic on her face at the edge of thirty stone steps, Eleanor," Marcus said, leaning closer until his breath fogged the glass.
"You knew exactly what thirty marble steps do to a twenty-pound child."
Eleanor stared down at her handcuffs, the heavy steel chain clinking against the shelf.
"Julian promised me fifty million in the Swiss account the moment the court confirmed my guardianship," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"He said Arthur had the probate judge in his pocket. He said nobody would ever look at the security feeds."
"Julian is facing three counts of wire fraud, attempted murder, and corporate extortion in federal district court," Marcus informed her.
"His private syndicate collapsed yesterday afternoon when the federal banking regulator froze their correspondent accounts."
Marcus stood up, resting the receiver back onto its metal cradle.
Eleanor grabbed her receiver with both hands, pounding her palm against the reinforced glass.
"Marcus, wait!" she cried, panic suddenly replacing her cold arrogance.
"The state prosecutor wants twenty-five years without parole! Talk to them, Marcus! Tell them I cooperated!"
"Tell them Lily is fine! Please, Marcus, I can't die in here!"
Marcus did not pick up the phone.
He stood looking down at the woman who had terrorized his home, watched her tears streak the grimy glass, and felt only profound, liberating indifference.
May you like
He turned his back on her, walking toward the heavy steel exit doors without looking back a single time.
As the heavy magnetic locks buzzed and clanked shut behind him, the last remnant of Eleanor Harrington was locked away forever.
