I sat on one side of the scratched Plexiglas partition, my hands folded neatly on the metal shelf.
A heavy iron door banged open, and two guards escorted Mason in. He looked unrecognizable. Gone was the custom Armani suit, the perfectly styled hair, and the million-dollar smile. He wore an orange jumpsuit that was two sizes too big, his shoulders slumped, and dark, bruised circles hung deep beneath his eyes.
He sat down heavily on the other side of the glass and picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver. I did the same.
Neither of us spoke for a long, agonizing minute. Mason stared at his orange cuffs, his jaw twitching with suppressed rage.
“You ruined me,” he muttered into the receiver, his voice shaking with hatred. “Everything I built... everything I worked for... gone because you couldn't take a stupid joke.”
I tilted my head, looking at him with absolute, crystal-clear pity.
“You didn't build any of it, Mason,” I replied, my voice calm and steady through the audio feed. “You were a parasite wearing a stolen crown. You thought marrying me made you safe. You thought my father’s company was your inheritance.”
“I loved you!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glass. The guards immediately stepped forward, hands hovering over their utility belts, but Mason didn't care. Tears of pure frustration spilled down his cheeks. “I actually loved you, Claire!”
“No, Mason,” I said softly, standing up and sliding my coat over my shoulders. “You loved the power. You loved the control. But most of all... you loved money more than anything else.”
“Claire, wait! Please!” he screamed as I turned toward the exit. “Don’t leave me here! We can fix this! Drop the charges! I’ll sign whatever you want! Claire—!”
I didn't look back. I pushed open the heavy steel doors and walked out into the brilliant, blinding autumn sunlight.
