Chapter 9 - The Prison Visit
Two weeks later, the atmosphere inside the Manhattan Metropolitan Correction Center was cold, grey, and bleak.
Grant Whitmore sat behind a thick pane of bulletproof glass in the inmate visiting room, wearing a rough orange jumpsuit. His dark hair was unwashed, his stubble grown into a messy beard, and dark purple circles sat under his hollow eyes.
The heavy steel door opened, and Claire stepped into the room.
She looked stunning, wearing a tailored navy trench coat and a silk scarf, her long wavy brunette hair falling gracefully over her shoulders. She radiated power, beauty, and absolute serenity.
Grant picked up the gray inter-com phone with trembling hands. Claire sat down gracefully on her side of the glass, picking up her receiver.
"Claire..." Grant wept, his forehead pressing against the cold glass partition. "Please... you have to help me. The prosecutor is offering a ten-year plea deal! I can't survive in here! The other inmates... they know who I am!"
Claire listened to his pathetic crying without a single trace of emotion on her face.
May you like
"You should have thought about that before you put your mistress in my seat, Grant," Claire said softly into the phone.
"I was blind! I was foolish!" Grant begged desperately. "I love you, Claire! I swear I still love you! Give me one more chance! I'll sign any divorce settlement you want!"
