Chapter 13 - Desperation Behind Bars
The Westchester County Women’s Correctional Facility was a stark, brutal contrast to the manicured lawns of Briarcliff Manor.
Inside the glass-partitioned visitor booth of the maximum-security tier, Eleanor Vance sat on a bolted metal stool. Her designer coat had been confiscated; she was clad in an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit that smelled of institutional bleach. Her hair was greasy, unbrushed, and her face was haggard, lines of bitter age etched deep into her sallow skin.
On the other side of the glass sat Arthur Sterling, the senior partner of Kaufman & Sterling and a lifelong family friend.
"Arthur, thank God," Eleanor breathed, pressing her hands against the smudged glass. "Get me out of here. Post the bond. My account at Chase has six hundred thousand liquid—"
"Eleanor, stop," Sterling said coldly, not even lifting the visitor phone to his ear until she picked up hers.
Eleanor grabbed the plastic receiver. "What do you mean, stop?! I am being treated like a common street criminal! The guards are barbaric! They took my medication!"
"Your accounts are frozen, Eleanor," Sterling said flatly. "The State Attorney General’s Office executed an emergency asset freeze two hours ago. They've seized all accounts associated with the Evelyn Vance Trust."
Eleanor’s breath hitched. "What?"
"And I am not here to represent you," Sterling continued, his voice devoid of pity. "I am here as the managing partner of Kaufman & Sterling to inform you that Belle Vance has been formally terminated from our fellowship program with cause. Furthermore, our firm is filing civil fraud charges against your family for using corporate property to stage a felony assault."
"No... no, Arthur, listen to me!" Eleanor pleaded, tears of pure terror spilling down her cheeks. "Belle was manipulated! Laurel attacked us! You've known Belle since she was a little girl!"
"Belle just signed a sworn confession implicating you in the entire conspiracy, Eleanor," Sterling said, leaning in close to the glass. "She told the prosecutor that you bought the fake medical supplies. She told them you practiced the story on the drive home. She gave them your voice memos."
Eleanor froze. Her jaw dropped slack, her eyes bulging with disbelief. "She... what?"
"Your beloved daughter traded you for a reduced plea recommendation," Sterling said coldly, standing up from his chair. "You raised a monster, Eleanor. And now you get to live with the consequences."
Sterling hung up the receiver, turned on his heel, and walked out the heavy steel door.
"Arthur! Arthur, come back!" Eleanor screamed, slamming the plastic receiver against the reinforced glass until two female correction officers grabbed her by the arms and dragged her backward into the holding corridor, her shrieks echoing off the concrete walls.
Meanwhile, in the holding cell three corridors away, Belle Vance sat curled in a fetal position on a concrete bench. Her knees were drawn to her chest, her face buried in her arms, shivering uncontrollably.
A guard rapped a nightstick against the cell bars. "Vance. You've got an outside collect call. You've got two minutes."
Belle scrambled to her feet, running to the metal telephone on the cell wall. She punched the button with shaking fingers, hoping against hope that her old college friends or high-society acquaintances had rallied to help her.
"Hello? Hello, is someone there?!"
*"Belle."*
It was Laurel’s voice. Calm. Measured. Distant.
Belle burst into hysterical sobs. "Laurel! Oh God, Laurel, please! You answered! Laurel, Mom made me do it! She threatened to cut me off! She told me you would ruin everything! I never wanted to hurt your ear, I swear it was an accident—"
"Save it, Belle," Laurel said, her tone as smooth and cold as polished marble. "I saw your confession. I saw the text messages where you called me a 'disposable parasite' who deserved to be locked in Bedford Hills."
"I was angry! I didn't mean it!" Belle cried, pressing the phone so hard against her ear it bruised. "Laurel, please drop the charges! If you tell the DA you forgive me, they’ll give me probation! I can't survive in here! The other women... they look at me like they want to kill me!"
"You wanted me to spend ten years in a cage, Belle," Laurel said quietly. "You drove a metal rod into my skull and smiled while the police put me in chains. You don't get forgiveness. You get justice."
"Laurel, no! Please—"
*Click.*
The line went dead.
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Belle screamed, slamming the phone against the brick wall until the guard banged his club against the bars again, ordering her to shut up. Belle slid down the wall to the filthy concrete floor, realizing with absolute, horrifying certainty that the world she had built on lies had crushed her completely.
***
