Chapter 2 - The Glass Wall
The visitor’s room at the county jail was cold and smelled faintly of floor wax and industrial bleach. A thick sheet of scratched plexiglass divided the small booth, with two black plastic telephone receivers hanging on either side.
I sat on the cold stool and waited. Two minutes later, the heavy metal door on the opposite side opened, and a guard ushered Paige into the booth.
I almost didn't recognize her.
The polished, flawless girl who spent three hours getting her hair done for a lunch date was gone. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, her skin was sallow without makeup, and she wore an oversized grey jumpsuit that seemed to swallow her small frame.
She sat down heavily, her wrists shackled together at her waist. She stared at me through the glass for a long moment before slowly picking up the black receiver.
I picked up mine.
"You came," Paige said. Her voice was scratchy, stripped of its usual melodic, theatrical tone.
"Evan gave me the letter," I said flatly. "You said you had information."
Paige let out a bitter, raspy laugh that fogged the glass slightly. "Evan. Of course. The brilliant savior. Do you know he froze my personal bank accounts within two hours of leaving that ballroom? I didn't even have enough money to pay for my clothes at the bridal suite."
"You cheated on him with his best man, Paige," I reminded her, keeping my voice utterly devoid of emotion. "You tried to pass off another man's child as his to secure a trust fund. What did you expect him to do?"
"I was trapped!" Paige snapped, her eyes flashing with a sudden, desperate rage. "You think I wanted any of this? Dad lost everything eighteen months ago! The company was a shell! He told me that if I didn't marry Evan, the creditors would take everything—including your house, including Mom’s jewelry, everything!"
"So you decided to forge my signature and steal my home instead?" I leaned closer to the glass, pointing directly to the scar near my hairline. "And when I said no, Dad tried to cave my skull in with a piece of brass while you stood there in your ivory dress and watched!"
Paige flinched, looking away from my eyes for the first time. Her hands trembled against her lap, the metal handcuffs clinking softly against the plastic table.
"I didn't know he was going to hit you," she whispered, tears finally welling in her lower lids. "Mara, I swear to God, I thought you would just sign the papers. You always fix things. Ever since we were kids, whenever Mom and Dad spent too much money or got into trouble, you were the one who worked three jobs and kept quiet."
"I am done fixing things for this family," I said. "Tell me about the offshore account, or I walk out that door right now."
Paige swallowed hard, wiping her nose with her sleeve. "It’s in the Cayman Islands. Under a shell corporation called Apex Heritage Ltd. Dad set it up six months ago. There’s four million dollars in it."
"Where did the money come from?"
"It’s the remaining capital from the investor funds he embezzled before the audit," Paige confessed, her voice dropping so low I had to press the receiver tight against my ear. "He gave me the access keys on a flash drive the morning of the wedding. He told me to keep it hidden in case the loan on your house fell through."
I stared at her, stunned by the sheer depth of my parents' premeditated cruelty. "Where is the flash drive?"
"I’ll give it to you," Paige pleaded, leaning against the glass, her breath fogging the center of the window. "I’ll give you the drive, the passwords, everything. But you have to do one thing for me, Mara."
"What?"
"Tell the prosecutor you won't testify against me for the fraud conspiracy," she begged, tears spilling down her pale cheeks. "If you don't testify, my lawyer can get me probation. I can’t stay in here, Mara. I’m pregnant. I’m scared."
I looked at my sister—the girl I had bought school clothes for when our parents were too busy throwing lavish galas to notice she had outgrown her shoes. I saw the fear in her eyes, but beneath that fear, I saw the exact same calculation that had driven our father.
"I'll take the flash drive to the federal prosecutor, Paige," I said softly, setting the receiver back onto its hook. "And I will let the law decide what happens to you."
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"Mara! No! Mara, wait!" she screamed through the glass, slamming her hands against the plastic as the guards grabbed her arms and dragged her back toward the heavy metal door.
I turned my back and walked away.
