Chapter 6 - The Jailhouse Visit
The visitation room at the Cook County Jail was cold, gray, and smelled of stale floor wax and industrial disinfectant.
I sat behind a thick sheet of scratched bulletproof glass, waiting quietly.
The heavy steel door on the opposite side opened, and a guard escorted Michael into the small booth.
He was wearing an orange inmate jumpsuit. His hair was greasy and unwashed, his dark eyes were bloodshot and sunken, and his hands were cuffed to a chain around his waist. He looked like a hollow shadow of the polished, handsome executive who had stood barefoot in my doorway forty-eight hours ago.
He sat down heavily on the metal stool, picking up the black plastic phone receiver with shaking hands.
I picked up my receiver.
“Emily...” Michael’s voice came through the speaker, raspy and desperate. “Emily, thank God you came. You have to get me out of here. Please. The guys in here... this place is a nightmare.”
I looked at him silently, holding the receiver to my ear without saying a word.
“Emily, listen to me!” Michael stammered, pressing his face closer to the glass. “Last night was a massive misunderstanding! Julianna tricked me! She told me the loan on your condo was a legal spousal credit line! She forged those signatures, Emily! I had no idea she was putting your name on those documents!”
“Michael,” I said smoothly, my voice crystal clear through the line. “Save it. I’ve seen the wire transfers from Bennett Transit to LIV Logistics. I’ve seen the flight receipts to Miami. And I’ve seen the four-million-dollar offshore account application bearing your signature from three months ago.”
Michael froze. The color drained completely from his face, leaving his skin a sickly, pale yellow.
“You... you looked at the laptop,” he whispered.
“I didn't just look at it,” I replied. “My forensic team spent thirty-six hours analyzing every single byte of data on it. You didn't just commit fraud, Michael. You committed amateurish, incompetent fraud.”
Michael slammed his cuffed hands against the ledge beneath the glass, making the metal rattle. “I did it for us, Emily! Bennett Transit was falling apart! I was trying to save my business so I could be the provider you deserved! You always made me feel so small! You with your twenty-ninth-floor condo, your corporate equity, your wealthy father!”
I leaned in closer to the glass, looking straight into his trembling, pathetic eyes.
“I never made you feel small, Michael,” I said softly. “You were small. You were a insecure, greedy boy who married a strong woman hoping her shine would cover up your incompetence. And when you realized you couldn't control me, you decided to steal from me.”
Michael began to cry—gross, messy, terrified tears that smeared against the dirty glass. “Emily, please! Don't let them send me to federal prison! My mother told me you’re taking her lake house! You’re destroying my family!”
“Your mother signed the quitclaim deed thirty minutes ago, Michael,” I informed him cleanly. “The lake house now belongs to my holding trust. And as for Bennett Transit?”
I pulled a small folded paper from my coat pocket and held it up against the glass.
It was a formal Notice of Default and Immediate Foreclosure.
“I bought your company’s mortgage debt from First National Bank this morning,” I said. “As of 2:00 PM today, Bennett Transit belongs to me. I have shuttered the warehouse, locked the gates, and placed all your remaining corporate inventory under federal liquidation.”
Michael stared at the paper, his jaw hanging open, his breath coming in wild, shallow gasps. “You... you took my company?”
“I took everything, Michael,” I corrected him calmly. “Just like you tried to take everything from me. The only difference is, I did it legally.”
May you like
I set the phone receiver back onto its hook, stood up, and smoothed down my coat.
Michael hammered his fist franticly against the glass, screaming soundlessly behind the thick partition as the guard stepped forward, grabbed him by the shoulder, and dragged him back through the heavy steel door into the dark corridors of the jail.
