Chapter 6 - The Unraveling of Patricia
Three days later, inside the high-security visitor wing of the Miami Detention Center, Patricia Hart sat behind a thick glass partition.
Her winter-white coat and emerald gown were gone, replaced by a dark orange jumpsuit. Her styled blonde hair was limp and unwashed, and the polished elegance she had cultivated for thirty years had completely shattered.
On the other side of the glass, Evelyn sat down calmly, placing the phone receiver to her ear.
Patricia slowly picked up her receiver. Her hands were trembling.
“Did you come to gloat, Evelyn?” Patricia asked, her voice raspy, laced with deep bitterness. “To see the woman who replaced your mother sitting in prison clothes?”
“I didn't come to gloat, Patricia,” Evelyn replied smoothly. “I came to return something to you.”
Evelyn slid a manila envelope under the document slot below the glass.
Patricia looked down, her fingers shaking as she opened the envelope. Inside were dozens of letters, cards, and small photographs from twenty years ago.
They were letters Patricia had written to Richard Hart during his first marriage—letters revealing that Patricia had been leaking Richard’s private business plans to rival logistics firms in exchange for personal bank payouts before she ever married him.
Patricia’s face went dead white. “Where... where did you find these?”
“In my father’s safe at the Wichita hangar,” Evelyn said quietly. “He found them six months before he died, Patricia. He knew what you were doing. He knew you and Blake were stealing from him.”
Patricia swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “If he knew... why didn't he divorce me? Why didn't he throw me out?”
“Because he was sick,” Evelyn said, her eyes glistening with quiet grief. “And because he blamed himself for not seeing through your mask sooner. He didn't want the family name dragged through the dirt while he was alive. But he left me the evidence so I could protect his legacy when the time came.”
Patricia fell back against her chair, the weight of her long-hidden sins finally exposed to the light.
“Blake is facing fifteen years in federal prison, Patricia,” Evelyn continued, her voice soft but absolute. “And your plea deal carries a minimum of eight years for tax fraud and document forgery. The estate, the ranch, the Miami condo, and the jewels have all been seized and returned to the Hart Foundation.”
“You left us with nothing,” Patricia whispered, tears finally breaking past her pale lashes. “Not a single dollar.”
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“I left you with what you gave me on that shuttle, Patricia,” Evelyn said, standing up from her chair and smoothing her jacket. “I left you with the truth.”
Evelyn hung up the phone receiver, turned her back on her stepmother, and walked out of the visitor room without looking back.
