Chapter 14 - Glass and Iron Confessions
The visiting room of the Metropolitan Correctional Center smells of industrial floor wax, sour sweat, and rusted iron.
A thick barrier of reinforced bulletproof glass divides the concrete cubicle into two distinct worlds.
Luca sits on the hard bolted-down steel stool, wearing a dark wool coat, his expression carved from black flint.
I sit beside him in an identical chair, having insisted on accompanying him despite his initial protests.
On the other side of the glass, the heavy steel door clicks open with an echoing electronic whine.
Victoria Campbell is escorted into the booth by two armed female corrections officers.
Her transformation from the glamorous, diamond-draped socialite to a federal inmate is complete.
She wears an oversized bright orange canvas jumpsuit, her wrists bound by heavy stainless steel belly chains.
Her blonde hair is dull, greasy, and pulled back into a messy knot; her skin is sallow without makeup.
The deep bruises on her arms from her frantic run through the woods have turned an ugly, mottled yellow-green.
She shuffles forward, the chains clinking against her ankles, and drops heavily onto the metal bench opposite us.
She lifts the black plastic telephone receiver with her shackled hands, glaring through the glass with burning hatred.
Luca picks up his receiver and holds it to his ear without saying a word.
"You brought her," Victoria hisses into the microphone, her voice tinny and distorted through the intercom.
"You brought the little scullery maid to gloat over my cage?"
"I brought my household director so she could see how low a thief falls when her luck runs out," Luca replies coldly.
Victoria lets out a raspy, bitter laugh that turns into a wet cough.
"You think you won, Moretti? You think you're safe because you handed me to the Department of Justice?"
"I know I am safe, Victoria," Luca says calmly. "Your offshore accounts are gone. The Bellinis have abandoned you."
"And Martha Vance is preparing to bury Julian’s bones with honors while you eat cafeteria slop for the next forty years."
Victoria’s face twists in sudden, uncontrollable rage; she slams her chained fists against the glass barrier.
The guards behind her immediately step forward, their hands resting on their stun batons, but she ignores them.
"I have your father's ledger, Luca!" she shrieks into the receiver, saliva flecking the glass.
"The one your uncle hid in Zurich before he was assassinated in ninety-eight!"
"The ledger with the names of the five aldermen who authorized the riverfront development kickbacks!"
Luca doesn't flinch; he merely tilts his head, studying her desperate, thrashing fury with profound boredom.
"You don't have that ledger, Victoria," Luca speaks, his voice smooth and untroubled.
"How could you possibly know what I have?" she screams.
"Because my consigliere found your storage locker in Kenosha three hours ago," Luca reveals with chilling calm.
"We found the duplicate passport, the sixty thousand dollars in banded cash, and the three flash drives you kept behind the drywall."
"There was no ledger."
"Only personal love letters you wrote to Julian Vance before you pushed him into the dark water."
"You kept every single letter he sent you from the naval academy, didn't you?"
Victoria goes completely, utterly motionless, her jaw slackening as the final shred of her leverage vanishes into dust.
"You loved him," I speak into the secondary receiver, my voice filled not with anger, but with sorrow.
Victoria's hollow, bloodshot eyes dart from Luca to me, wide with an unbearable, suffocating realization.
"You loved him, and you destroyed him because your greed was bigger than your heart," I say through the glass.
"And now you will spend every single night of your life inside this concrete box, remembering his face as he sank."
A low, broken sob tears out of Victoria’s throat, her forehead dropping hard against the cold, bulletproof partition.
The illusion of the ruthless criminal mastermind shatters completely, leaving only a hollow, ruined soul.
The guards step in, pulling her back by the chains as she begins to weep hysterically into the empty air.
Luca hangs up the black receiver without waiting to hear another word.
He stands, adjusts his wool coat, and turns toward the heavy steel exit door, offering me his arm.
May you like
"We are done here, Natalie," Luca says softly as we step into the echoing corridor.
"Let the ghosts of the past stay where they belong."
