Chapter 12 - The Ghost in Cell 402
The visiting room of the Westchester Maximum Security Facility smelled of industrial bleach, floor wax, and ruined lives. Daniel sat across the scratched acrylic partition, his tailored charcoal suit a stark contrast to the sterile beige concrete.
The heavy metal door buzzed, and two armed guards escorted a woman into the booth.
Victoria Sterling Vance did not look defeated. She wore an orange prison jumpsuit, yet she carried herself as if it were haute couture from Paris Fashion Week. Her dark hair was neatly brushed behind her ears, her cheekbones sharp, her posture poised. The bruises from her sudden downfall had faded, replaced by an unsettling, luminous serenity. When she saw Daniel, her scarlet lips curled into a slow, mocking smile.
She picked up the plastic telephone receiver. Daniel mirrored her, lifting his receiver to his ear.
"You look pale, darling," Victoria purred through the static-laced line. "Is coastal air not agreeing with your fragile, heroic constitution?"
"The black envelope," Daniel spat, leaning forward until his forehead nearly brushed the scratch-covered glass. "Who sent it, Victoria? What was your real role in my family?"
Victoria let out a low, musical laugh that made Daniel's blood run cold. "You foolish, sentimental boy. You thought you were the hero of a fairy tale. You thought you slayed the wicked wife and rescued poor, sweet, ninety-year-old Granny. Tell me, Daniel... did she tell you about the fire in the Swiss Alps? Did she tell you whose blood built the foundation of Vance Enterprises?"
"Don't play games with me! You starved her! You bruised her! You humiliated an old woman!"
"I was keeping her alive, you idiot!" Victoria’s eyes flared with sudden, terrifying intensity, the playful mask dropping away like melted wax. "Every restriction, every locked door, every dollar stripped from her control was designed to keep *their* radar blind! She was laundering money through offshore shell accounts to pay off the blood-debt your grandfather incurred. The moment you ousted me, Daniel, the moment you paraded her in public on that terrace—you lit a flare in the dead of night for the wolves to see."
Victoria leaned closer, her breath fogging the partition. "They aren't coming for the estate, Daniel. They don't care about the mansions or the yachts. They are coming for Margaret. And once they take her, they will strip you of your skin before they let you die."
The guard tapped on Victoria's shoulder, signaling the end of the session. Victoria stood, looking down at Daniel with genuine, terrifying pity.
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"Check the floorboards in the old carriage house, Daniel," she whispered into the receiver before hanging it up. "Look at the ledgers she hid before your father was even born."
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