Chapter 8 - The Legal Labyrinth and the Whispers of the Iron Cell
The prison visit was arranged with the kind of speed that only Moretti money could buy.
Luca drove me himself,
his black sedan cutting through the city traffic like a shark through water.
I was dressed in a high-necked black silk blouse that hid the bandages,
and a pair of tailored trousers.
On my lapel,
the gold lion's head glittered under the fluorescent lights of the precinct.
"He's been kept in isolation,"
Luca told me as we walked through the sterile,
clanging hallways.
"For his own protection,
or so the warden says."
"And what does the warden really say?"
I asked.
Luca glanced at me,
a grim smile playing on his lips.
"The warden says he's a dead man walking if he enters the general population."
We reached a heavy steel door,
and a guard nodded respectfully to Luca.
"Ten minutes,
Counselor,"
the guard said.
"That's all I need,"
I replied.
The room was small,
windowless,
and smelled of sweat and floor wax.
Adrian sat behind a plexiglass barrier,
his orange jumpsuit several sizes too large for his shrinking frame.
He looked up as I entered,
and for a moment,
I saw a flash of the old Adrian—the arrogance,
the entitlement.
"Elena,"
he rasped,
pressing his hands against the glass.
"Thank God.
You have to get me out of here.
Your brothers...
they’ve gone crazy.
They're framing me!"
I sat down slowly,
keeping my back straight despite the flare of pain.
"They aren't framing you,
Adrian,"
I said,
my voice calm and cold.
"They're simply revealing you."
"I'm sorry!"
he cried,
his voice cracking.
"The whipping...
it was the wine,
I was stressed,
the business was failing...
I didn't mean to hurt you that badly."
"You meant to humiliate me,"
I corrected him.
"You meant to show those fifty people that I was your property."
I leaned closer to the glass,
my eyes locking onto his.
"But you forgot one thing,
Adrian."
"What?"
he whispered.
"I was never yours,"
I said.
"I was only on loan."
I tapped the gold pin on my lapel.
"And the Morettis always collect their debts."
Adrian’s face contorted with a mixture of fear and rage.
"You think you’ve won?
I have lawyers!
I have connections!"
"You had lawyers,"
Luca interjected from the corner of the room.
"But I’ve spent the morning making sure no firm in the city will touch your case.
As for your connections...
they’re currently being interviewed by the FBI regarding the bridge collapse."
Adrian’s eyes went wide.
"The bridge...
that wasn't me!
That was my father!"
"It doesn't matter,"
I said,
standing up.
"In the eyes of the world,
the name Cole is synonymous with death and cowardice."
I turned to leave,
but then I stopped and looked back at him.
"Oh,
and Adrian?"
He looked up,
a tiny spark of hope in his eyes.
"Vanessa is pregnant,"
I lied,
knowing it would be the final twist of the knife.
"But she told the guards she’s not sure if the baby is yours or the pool boy's."
The scream of pure,
unadulterated agony that left Adrian's throat followed me all the way back to the car.
It was a sound that finally began to drown out the memory of the thirtieth strike.
As we drove away,
Luca looked at me with a newfound respect.
"That was cold,
Elena."
"He taught me from the best,"
I replied,
looking out at the city skyline.
May you like
"Now,
take me to see Vanessa."
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