Chapter 14 - The Cell Block
The visiting room at the Harris County Detention Center in Houston smelled of industrial bleach and burnt coffee.
Julian sat on a plastic stool behind the thick acrylic partition. He had declined the company car, driving a utilitarian Ford pickup truck from Port Arthur that morning.
A heavy steel door buzzed open on the prisoner side. Brianna was escorted into the booth by a female correctional officer.
The woman who sat down opposite him bore no resemblance to the glamorous influencer who had ordered Eleanor Vance out of her penthouse. Brianna wore an oversized orange prison jumpsuit. Her hair, unwashed and lacking its professional extensions, hung limp around her shoulders. Her face was hollow, her eyes frantic and bloodshot.
She picked up the telephone receiver with trembling hands. Julian lifted his.
"Julian," she sobbed, pressing her palm against the glass. "You came. Oh God, you came. Please tell me you’re getting me out of here. The bail is half a million dollars. Your lawyer can post a surety bond in ten minutes!"
Julian looked at her calmly through the glass. "The district attorney has you on four federal counts of bank fraud, Brianna. The signature you forged was on an account registered under corporate maritime law. That makes it a federal wire fraud indictment."
"I did it for us!" she lied desperately, tears streaming down her hollow cheeks. "I was trying to get money so we could fight Marcus! I wanted to help you buy back the company, Julian! You have to believe me!"
"You hired a felon named Billy Ray to dump sulfuric acid into my father's engines," Julian said, his voice entirely flat, devoid of anger, which frightened her far more than screaming would have. "You knew that if those engines failed, the tax lien would default, and you thought you could cut a deal with the auction broker to flip the land."
Brianna froze. The tears stopped, replaced by a terrible, trapped stillness.
"Marcus Sterling told you how to do it, didn't he?" Julian whispered.
Brianna swallowed hard, her eyes darting away.
"Marcus never wanted you," Julian continued softly. "He left breadcrumbs for you to find—an open account, a crooked security contact, a forged document template. He knew your greed would lead you directly into a federal trap. You thought you were a player in a high-stakes game, Brianna. You were just the bait my mother used to clear out the rot."
"Julian, please," she whimpered, pressing her forehead against the scratched acrylic. "I'll go to prison for ten years. Please don't abandon me. I loved you. I really loved you."
Julian looked down at his right hand. The scars across his knuckles were fading into pale lines, but the calluses remained thick and permanent.
"When you packed my mother’s suitcase," Julian said quietly, "you told her that the house was ours. You told her to get out because she was old and useless."
Brianna didn't breathe.
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"You're right about one thing," Julian said, standing up from the stool. "It is about knowing when something is over."
He hung up the telephone receiver, turned his back on her frantic screams against the glass, and walked out into the Texas sun.
