Chapter 5 - The Price of TreasonSix months later.
The State Correctional Facility for Women sat like a grey concrete scar against the flat, barren landscape of the upstate countryside. High chain-link fences topped with razor wire enclosed the yard, where cold autumn winds whipped dry dust across the pavement.
Inside the visitor center, separated by a thick panel of bulletproof glass, sat Margaret Hamilton.
The former matriarch of Oakridge was almost unrecognizable. Her golden-dyed hair had grown out, revealing stark white roots. She wore a dull orange prison jumpsuit made of coarse, cheap cotton that chafed against her neck. Her hands, once adorned with diamond rings and flawless manicures, were rough, dry, and unadorned.
Sitting on the stool on the opposite side of the glass was Julian Vance.
Julian set a thin leather file on the small ledge beneath the speaking grate.
"Mrs. Hamilton," Julian said calmly through the small perforated metal circle. "I am here as a representative of the court-appointed trustee for the liquidation of the Hamilton estate."
Margaret’s eyes flashed with a remnant of her former venom. "Where is my son?! Why hasn't Adam come to see me?! It has been six months!"
"Mr. Hamilton has explicitly requested that no communications from you be forwarded to his new address," Julian reported flatly. "He has changed his phone number. He does not wish to see you, nor does he wish for you to have any contact with his son, Idan."
"He's my grandson!" Margaret slammed her fist against the glass, her voice cracking into a high-pitched shriek. "I built that family! I sacrificed everything to protect our name! He is an ungrateful coward!"
"You didn't protect your family, Mrs. Hamilton," Julian said, his voice cold and steady. "You used them. You framed an innocent woman to cover your own financial fraud, and in doing so, you destroyed every single thing you claimed to care about."
He tapped the file against the glass.
"The plea agreement has been finalized," Julian continued. "In exchange for your full confession regarding the offshore wire transfers and the theft of the Empress Sapphire, the state has dropped the maximum conspiracy charges. You have been sentenced to twelve years at this facility without the possibility of parole for the first eight years."
Margaret froze. "Twelve years... I will be seventy-four years old when I get out!"
"The estate in Oakridge was sold at public auction three weeks ago," Julian added, delivering the final blow. "The proceeds were used to pay back the federal tax liens and to satisfy the civil court judgment awarded to Miss Clara Mendez for malicious prosecution and intentional infliction of emotional distress."
Margaret’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes went wide with pure, searing agony. "My home... my estate... given to her?"
"Miss Mendez did not keep the money," Julian said, a subtle smile touching his lips. "She donated ninety percent of the settlement to establish the Mendez Foundation for Legal Aid—an organization dedicated to providing top-tier legal defense for domestic workers and low-income individuals accused of crimes they did not commit."
"She... she used my money for that?" Margaret gasped, her breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches.
"It wasn't your money, Mrs. Hamilton," Julian said, picking up his file and standing up from his stool. "It belonged to justice. Have a good afternoon."
May you like
Julian turned and walked toward the heavy steel exit doors.
Behind the glass, Margaret Hamilton slumped forward against the cold metal counter, burying her face in her rough orange sleeves, sobbing hysterically as the heavy iron locks clicked shut behind her, sealing her inside the cold, grey tomb of her own making.
