Chapter 7 - The Bitter Truth Unravels
Three days later, Madeline sat in a private conference room at the Fulton County Jail.
Across the steel table sat Cynthia Myers. The woman looked unrecognizable. Gone were the designer dresses, the polished French manicure, and the smug, arrogant smirk. She wore an oversized orange jumpsuit, her hair was unwashed, and her face was blotchy from days of weeping.
“Why did you want to see me?” Cynthia hissed, her voice trembling with venom and terror. “Have you come to gloat? To laugh at me?”
Madeline sat back, her posture straight and elegant, hands folded quietly over her knee. “I came to give you some news, Cynthia. I thought you’d like to know what happened to Austin.”
Cynthia’s eyes widened. “Where is my baby? What did you do to him? If you hurt him, I swear to God—”
“Austin is safe,” Madeline interrupted coldly. “Unlike you, I do not punish innocent children for the sins of their parents. He is currently under the care of a certified foster family while the state reviews his placement. But there was a small complication during his medical intake.”
Cynthia stiffened, a flicker of sheer panic flashing across her eyes.
“When they admitted Austin for standard blood work and pedigree matching for ward placement,” Madeline said, pulling a manila folder from her bag, “they ran a mandatory DNA test against Jeffrey Thorne’s genetic profile, which had been entered into the state database following his felony arrest.”
Madeline slid a single sheet of paper across the metal table.
“The probability of Jeffrey Thorne being Austin’s biological father is zero point zero percent.”
Cynthia froze. She looked down at the paper as if it were a venomous snake, refusing to touch it.
“You knew, didn't you?” Madeline whispered, her voice dripping with disgust. “You were sleeping with Jeffrey’s college friend, Derek Cole—the regional sales manager he fired two years ago. When you got pregnant, you knew Derek was broke, but Jeffrey had access to my family’s fortune. So you fed his ego. You told him he was the father, moved into my home, and watched my son starve while you pampered another man’s child on my money.”
“Shut up,” Cynthia sobbed, burying her face in her cuffed hands. “Shut up! Jeffrey was a fool! He was desperate to prove he was a real man! He hated that you were smarter than him, richer than him, more successful than him! All I had to do was tell him he was a king, and he gave me whatever I asked for!”
“And what did you do to Liam?” Madeline’s voice dropped, the cold anger turning into an icy scalpel. “Tell me, Cynthia. Why the basement? Why the dog bowl?”
Cynthia looked up, her face twisted in a mixture of guilt and pathetic spite. “It was Noelle. She hated you from the day Jeffrey married you. She said Liam had your eyes, your stubborn blood. Every time Liam cried for you, Noelle would lose her temper. She told Jeffrey the boy was defective, that he would embarrass the Thorne name. Jeffrey was too weak to stand up to her, so he let her lock him away so he wouldn't have to look at his own failure.”
Madeline stared at the broken woman across from her. There was no victory in hearing this. Only the sickening realization of how deep human depravity could sink when greed and cowardice joined hands.
“Jeffrey knows,” Madeline said quietly.
Cynthia’s head snapped up. “What?”
“I visited Jeffrey’s cell twenty minutes ago,” Madeline said, standing up. “I handed him the exact same DNA report. I told him that the thirty-four million dollars he embezzled, the felony charges he faces, the thirty years he will spend in prison... he did it all for another man’s child.”
Cynthia’s breath hitched. “What... what did he say?”
“He didn't say anything,” Madeline said, smoothing her skirt as she turned toward the heavy metal door. “He just threw up on the floor. Enjoy your trial, Cynthia. The District Attorney informed me this morning that they are seeking the maximum sentence of twenty-five years without the possibility of parole.”
May you like
Madeline knocked on the heavy door, and the guard unlocked it. She walked out into the corridor without looking back once, leaving Cynthia’s wailing cries echoing down the cold concrete hall.
***
