Chapter 12 - Victoria’s Reckoning

In the women's correctional facility fifty miles south, Victoria Vance sat in a sterile interview room, her manicured nails long gone, chewed down to raw, jagged beds. Her silk robes had been replaced by coarse yellow prison canvas.

Her private defense attorney, a weary man named Caldwell whom Julian had privately bought out to ensure bare-minimum representation, slid a plea agreement across the table.

"Twenty years, Mrs. Vance," Caldwell said flatly. "State penitentiary. If you go to trial with that video evidence and the maid's testimony, the jury will convict you in less than forty minutes. You'll die in prison."

"I am not going to a state penitentiary!" Victoria screamed, shoving the papers off the table. "Where is my son?! Tell Daniel to liquidate the Hamptons property! Tell him to post my bail!"

"Daniel is in solitary confinement at Cook County, Mrs. Vance," Caldwell replied coldly, gathering the papers from the floor. "He signed a confession three hours ago. In exchange for avoiding the federal death penalty, he testified that you were the mastermind behind the entire plot to murder Clara Sterling and forge the trust documents."

Victoria’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes bulged until the veins in her neck threatened to burst.

"He... what?" she gasped, her voice shrinking to a pathetic wheeze. "Daniel... blamed me?"

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"He gave them your private audio recordings from your study," Caldwell added, delivering the final emotional execution. "He handed over every text message where you ordered him to grease the railing bolts. Your son sold you out to save his own skin."

Victoria collapsed backward into her chair, her chest heaving, clutching her throat as if an invisible curtain had wrapped around her neck, choking the life out of her wretched soul.