Chapter 9 - The Final Verdict
Carter recoiled as if physically struck,
his tears faltering for a moment,
before he doubled down on his pathetic act.
"You can't do this,"
he pleaded,
glancing nervously at my father,
who sat entirely motionless,
watching Carter like a hawk watching a dying mouse.
"We are married,"
Carter babbled,
"we have a child on the way,"
"a boy needs his father,"
"you can't raise him alone!"
I leaned forward,
resting my hands on the polished table,
my gaze locking onto his terrified eyes,
refusing to let him look away.
"My son,"
I emphasized the word,
"will never know your name,"
"he will never know your face,"
"and he will never carry the stain of your legacy."
"You are nothing to us now,"
I declared,
the words feeling like a massive weight lifting off my shoulders,
freeing me from the invisible chains he had bound me with.
My father's lead lawyer,
a shark in a three-piece suit,
slid a thick,
bound document across the table toward Carter.
"These are the divorce papers,"
the lawyer stated clinically,
"they grant my client full,
uncontested custody of the child,"
"and they strip you of any and all marital assets."
"Furthermore,"
the lawyer continued,
"you will sign a full confession to the embezzlement charges,"
"in exchange for the state dropping the assault charges."
Carter stared at the document,
his face draining of all color,
realizing that he was being offered a deal that was essentially a death sentence for his career.
"If I sign this,"
Carter whispered,
his voice breaking,
"I go to federal prison for ten years,"
"I lose my license,"
"I lose everything."
My father finally spoke,
his voice a low,
terrifying rumble that made the hair on Carter's arms stand up.
"If you do not sign it,"
my father promised softly,
"I will ensure you are tried for attempted murder,"
"and I will make sure the inmates in maximum security know exactly why you are there."
Carter swallowed hard,
a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead,
the stark terror in his eyes confirming that he understood the threat perfectly.
With shaking hands,
he picked up the pen,
his tears falling onto the crisp white paper,
staining the document that sealed his absolute ruin.
He signed his name,
each letter a jagged,
broken scrawl,
and pushed the papers back across the table,
burying his face in his shackled hands,
sobbing uncontrollably.
I stood up,
smoothing my dress,
feeling a profound sense of closure,
a chapter of my life finally,
permanently shut.
"Let's go, Dad,"
I said,
not giving Carter a second glance,
turning my back on the wreckage of my past.
We walked out of the conference room,
May you like
leaving Carter Davis to face the grim,
desolate future he had so carefully constructed for himself.
