CHAPTER 6 — The Visit
The prison smelled like industrial bleach and old regret. Damien hadn’t wanted to come. But his lawyer had insisted there were final estate matters that required Victoria’s signature, and she refused to sign unless Damien brought them himself.
Victoria Mercer looked smaller in the orange jumpsuit. But her eyes hadn’t changed. They were still cold. Still assessing. Still looking for a weakness to exploit.
“You look thin,” she said through the plexiglass. “Are you eating? Or is that woman still feeding you whatever garbage she buys with your money?” Damien didn’t flinch. The words didn’t cut the way they used to. “The papers are in the slot, Mother. Just sign them.”
Victoria didn’t touch the pen. “I did everything for you, Damien. Every lie, every document—it was to secure your future. Your children’s future. And you threw me to the wolves for a girl who grew up in a town with one traffic light.” Damien looked at the woman who had raised him. He felt a sudden, profound wave of pity. “You didn’t do it for me,” he said softly. “You did it because you couldn’t stand the thought of losing control over something you created.”
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“I made you,” she hissed. “No,” Damien said, rising from his chair. “You designed a version of me. But I’m dismantling it.”
He walked away before she could sign. He told the lawyer to handle the rest, no matter the cost. Some closures couldn’t be bought with a signature. They had to be walked away from.
