Six months later, the cold wind blew gray leaves across the stone courtyard of the State Correctional Facility for Women. Rain tapped softly against the reinforced glass windows of the visitor room.
Victoria sat on a metal chair, wearing a bright orange prison jumpsuit. Her hair was gray, unstyled, and her face looked thin and hollow. The glamorous woman in the dark shimmering gown was completely gone.
The heavy security door unlocked, and Clara walked in wearing a tailored dark coat, holding a leather folder in her hands.
She sat down on the wooden bench across from the glass partition, picking up the plastic phone receiver.
Victoria picked up her receiver with a trembling, thin hand, her eyes swelling with fresh tears as she looked at Clara.
Victoria: You... you actually came to see me.
Clara: I didn't come to visit you, Victoria. I came to deliver the final liquidation papers for your Greenwich mansion.
Victoria: The mansion... my father bought that house forty years ago...
Clara: The house was sold at a public auction yesterday for fourteen million dollars. Every single cent went into a trust fund for victims of illegal adoption rings.
Victoria closed her eyes, a long, ragged sob escaping her throat as she leaned her head against the cool glass.
Victoria: Why are you doing this to me, Clara? I am your mother... I gave you life!
Clara: You gave me life, and then you threw me away like trash so you could keep a stolen inheritance. You don't get to claim the title of mother when it's convenient for you.
Victoria: I was scared! Your father was a cruel man, Clara! If I didn't produce an heir, he would have left us both with nothing on the street!
Clara: Then you should have taken me and walked away. A real mother fights for her child, she doesn't sell her to protect her luxury lifestyle.
Victoria: How is Liam? Does he ever ask about me?
Clara: Liam moved to Seattle. He got a job at a small architecture firm. He changed his last name, and he told me to tell you never to contact him again.
Victoria's hand shook so violently she almost dropped the phone receiver onto the counter.
Victoria: He... he abandoned me too?
Clara: You abandoned him the moment you made him a weapon in your war for money.
Clara stood up from the wooden bench, placing the liquidation papers on the small metal shelf near the glass slot.
Victoria: Clara, wait! Please! Don't leave me here alone! The judge gave me twelve years! I won't survive twelve years in this place!
Clara: You have twelve years to think about the daughter you threw away for a white suit and a marble floor.
Clara hung up the receiver, turned her back on the screaming woman behind the glass, and walked out through the heavy security doors into the crisp afternoon air.