Chapter 7 - The Final Farewell
The visitor’s room at the Metropolitan Correctional Center in Manhattan was cold, sterile, and smelled faintly of industrial disinfectant.
I sat on one side of a thick plexiglass partition.
A heavy steel door clicked open, and Daria was led into the room by two armed prison guards.
The transformation was shocking.
The glamour, the tailored silk gowns, and the flawless silver hair were gone. She wore an oversized orange prison jumpsuit. Her face was lined with deep wrinkles, her eyes sunken, her hands trembling slightly as she sat down in the plastic chair across from me.
She picked up the plastic telephone receiver. I slowly picked up mine.
“You look prosperous, Samuel,” Daria said, her voice raspy and stripped of its former theatrical power.
“I am happy, Daria,” I replied, my voice completely devoid of anger or hostility—only a cold, neutral truth. “Which is something you will never understand.”
Daria let out a bitter, dry laugh. “I did what I had to do for this family! Your father was a dreamer, Samuel! He was going to dilute our corporate control! If I hadn't taken control of the Vanguard Trust, Sterling Global would have been bought out by foreign hedge funds years ago!”
“You didn't do it for the family, Daria,” I said quietly. “You did it for power. You sacrificed your son, and you locked your eight-year-old granddaughter in a compound because you couldn't stand the thought of anyone else holding the reins.”
Daria’s hands clenched into fists against the cold metal counter. “She was fine! She had tutors, music lessons, a private garden—”
“She was hungry, Daria,” I cut her off, my voice sharp as a razor. “When I found her outside my hotel on a freezing November afternoon, she was soaked in rain and asking for a job cleaning tables because she hadn't eaten in two days.”
Daria recoiled as if I had struck her. For the first time, a flicker of genuine shame flashed across her pale face.
“I didn't know…” she whispered. “Vance told me she was being cared for…”
“You didn't care to check,” I said firmly. “Because to you, people aren't family. They are assets and liabilities.”
I stood up from the chair, holding the receiver close to my mouth.
“I came here today because Penelope asked me to,” I said. “She wanted you to know that we are happy. She is going back to school next month. She plays the piano every afternoon. She laughs every single day. You failed, Daria.”
Daria stared at me, tears finally welling in her tired eyes. “Samuel… please. I’m your mother.”
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“My mother died a long time ago,” I said softly.
I hung up the receiver, turned my back on her, and walked out of the room, never looking back.
