The visitor room of the county detention center was cold and sterile. A thick glass partition separated the rows of metal tables, with small black intercoms mounted on the wall.
Victoria sat on the plastic chair, dressed in a simple navy coat. She picked up the plastic telephone receiver as Richard was led into the room by an officer.
Richard wore an orange jumpsuit, his wrists bound by handcuffs attached to a heavy chain around his waist. He picked up his receiver, glaring at her through the thick glass.
Richard: Did you come here to gloat, Victoria?
Victoria: I came here to return something of yours.
She reached into her purse and held a small yellow envelope against the glass window.
Richard: What is that?
Victoria: It's the official notice of foreclosure on your penthouse in Manhattan. The bank seized it this morning.
Richard: You cold-hearted monster. That penthouse was bought with my private investments!
Victoria: It was bought with money you stole from my husband's trust. The court ruled it proceeds of crime.
Richard: My lawyers are filing an appeal on Monday!
Victoria: Your lawyers dropped your case an hour ago, Richard. They filed a motion to withdraw because you haven't paid their invoice.
Richard slumped forward against the counter, his forehead touching the cold glass.
Richard: Victoria... please. Talk to the district attorney. Tell them we made a deal. I'll give up all claims to the company. Just help me get probation.
Victoria: Probation? For stealing millions and shoving a young boy onto marble?
Richard: It was a mistake! I panicked!
Victoria: You didn't panic when you stole from the museum charity. You didn't panic when you hid David's medical records. You were calculated every step of the way.
Richard: I helped David build everything! I deserved a bigger share!
Victoria: You deserved what was in your employment contract, Richard. Nothing more, nothing less.
Richard: What am I supposed to do now? I have nothing left!
Victoria: You have plenty of time to think about your choices over the next fifteen years.
Richard: Fifteen years?! The prosecutor wants fifteen years?!
Victoria: That's the minimum sentence for grand larceny and felony fraud combined. And I'll be attending every single parole hearing to make sure you serve every day of it.
Richard stared at her, tears of frustration finally welling up in his bloodshot eyes.
Richard: You destroyed me.
Victoria: You destroyed yourself, Richard. You just picked the wrong family to mess with.
She hung up the telephone receiver, placing it neatly back onto its wall cradle.
Victoria stood up, adjusted her coat, and turned her back on him without looking back once as the guard tapped Richard on the shoulder to lead him away.