Chapter 13 - The Cellblock Queen
The high-security visitor block of Ironwood State Penitentiary smelled of cheap floor wax, stale bleach, and despair. Daniel sat on one side of the bulletproof glass partition, his immaculate bespoke charcoal suit a stark contrast to the cinderblock cage.
Across from him, Victoria Vance shuffled forward, her wrists and ankles shackled in reinforced steel chains.
Stripped of her diamond earrings, her contouring makeup, and her silk wraps, Victoria looked like a dried husk of the venomous queen she once was. Her dyed platinum hair was growing out gray at the roots, and a deep purple bruise bloomed along her jawline—prison life had not been kind to the fallen socialite.
Yet, when she raised her sunken eyes and saw Daniel, a grotesque, sickening smile split her chapped lips.
She picked up the telephone receiver with trembling, handcuffed hands. Daniel picked up his.
"You look exhausted, stepson," Victoria rasped, her voice gravelly and raspy. "Is the millionaire finding it hard to sleep at night?"
Daniel didn't flinch. He placed his hand flat against the glass, right above the speaker grate. "I know about Project Cerberus, Victoria."
Victoria’s mocking smile flickered, then vanished completely. Her pupils contracted into tiny pinpricks of absolute dread. She glanced frantically over both shoulders, checking the corrections officers leaning against the distant door.
"You shouldn't have dug that up, Daniel," she whispered, her voice losing its smugness, replaced by raw panic. "You think you won because you put me in here? You idiot. You arrogant, blind idiot."
"Who has the second collar, Victoria? Who was in Mason’s room last night?" Daniel leaned in, his voice vibrating with absolute lethality. "Tell me now, or I swear to God I will dismantle every offshore trust holding your daughter’s college fund. I will throw your sister onto the street, and I will make sure you spend the next thirty years in solitary confinement."
Victoria let out a wet, desperate laugh that bordered on hysteria. "Threaten my money? Daniel, money won't matter in seventy-two hours! You think I put that collar on your brat because I was cruel?"
"You put it on him because you're a sadistic leech," Daniel spat.
"No!" Victoria pressed her face against the glass, leaving a greasy smudge. Her eyes were bloodshot, manic. "I did it because I was following orders! The collar was a test, Daniel! They wanted to see if your spirit was broken! They wanted to see if you would fold, or if you would fight! If you folded, the boy would live as a compliant pet in an institution. But you fought back! You destroyed me, and in doing so, you proved to *him* that you are too dangerous to be left alive!"
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"Who is *he*?!" Daniel slammed his fist onto the stainless-steel counter, startling the guards at the door.
Victoria began to weep, tears cutting through the grime on her cheeks. "The man your father stole this dynasty from. Julian Mercer. He’s back, Daniel. And he doesn't want your money. He wants Clara’s grave dug up, and he wants your son’s blood on the family seal."
