Chapter 22
Two weeks later, the media storm surrounding Ethan Rowe and his disgraced family had quieted down into a distant hum of tabloid gossip.
Ethan sat in a sterile, fluorescent-lit holding cell in the downtown Denver detention center, staring blankly at the concrete floor. His designer clothes were gone, replaced by a coarse orange jumpsuit. His hair was unwashed, his jaw covered in a thick, unkempt beard.
The heavy steel door rattled open. A prison guard tapped on the bars. "Rowe. Visitor in booth three."
Ethan didn't move for a long moment, assuming it was his court-appointed defense attorney bringing more bad news about his frozen assets and impending federal fraud indictments. Reluctantly, he stood up and shuffled down the hall.
He sat down in the visitor booth, picking up the heavy plastic telephone receiver. On the other side of the thick glass sat a woman with dark sunglasses and a sharp woolen coat.
Ethan squinted, trying to focus through the smudged glass. "Victoria?" he rasped, his voice cracked and weak. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in federal custody!"
Victoria slowly removed her sunglasses, revealing eyes red-rimmed with rage and exhaustion. She didn't look like the confident corporate raider who had stepped out of the private elevator two weeks ago. She looked like a cornered animal.
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"I was," Victoria whispered, her voice trembling with hatred as she pressed her receiver tight against the glass. "Until Meredith pulled my bail package and ensured every single asset I had was frozen to pay off your debts."
Ethan’s eyes widened in horror. "My debts? I didn't owe you anything! You promised to help me destroy her!"
