Chapter 8 - The Price of Treachery
Three weeks later.
The visitation room at the county detention center smelled of stale bleach, cheap coffee, and regret.
Weston Prescott sat at a stainless steel table, wearing a faded orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on his frame. He had lost ten pounds. The stubble on his jaw was uneven, his eyes bloodshot, and the arrogant corporate smirk that had defined him for eight years was entirely gone.
The reinforced steel door buzzed, sliding open.
Weston’s heart leaped. For days, he had refused to speak to the public defender, hoping beyond hope that Elowen had sent Julian to negotiate terms. He believed she was punishing him, testing him, teaching him a lesson before taking him back.
“El?” he whispered hoarsely, straining against his handcuffs as the visitor entered.
It wasn't Elowen.
It was Harrison Cole, dressed in a sharp gray three-piece suit, carrying a single manila folder under his arm.
Weston slumped back onto the metal chair, the breath rushing out of him. “Harrison. Did she send you? Did Elowen tell you to drop the charges?”
Harrison sat across from him, resting his weathered hands on the steel table. He looked at Weston not with anger, but with profound, pitying disdain.
“Elowen didn't send me, Weston. Elowen doesn't think about you at all,” Harrison said quietly. “I came here on behalf of the liquidation board.”
“Liquidation board? What are you talking about?!”
Harrison opened the folder, sliding a single sheet of paper across the metal surface.
“Prescott Holdings is no more. Yesterday afternoon, the bankruptcy court approved the final asset sale. Sovereign Vantage purchased the intellectual property, the client contracts, and the physical real estate for pennies on the dollar. The name 'Prescott Holdings' has been permanently retired from the corporate registry.”
Weston grabbed the paper with trembling fingers. His eyes scanned the numbers. “She bought everything… for nothing? But what about my shares? My thirty percent equity?!”
Harrison let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Your equity was erased by your outstanding liabilities to the Sterling Trust, Weston. You owe Sovereign Vantage seventy-four million dollars. And because the forensic audit proved you diverted funds for personal use, that debt is non-dischargeable in bankruptcy.”
Weston’s hands shook so hard the paper rattled. “Seventy-four million… I’ll be in debt for the rest of my life! I’ll never be able to open a bank account! I’ll never hold a job!”
“That is correct,” Harrison said calmly. “Furthermore, Ms. Vance has accepted a plea deal with the District Attorney. In exchange for immunity on the tax counts, she handed over sixteen months of text messages, emails, and voice memos from you, outlining your deliberate plan to siphon the Sterling funds and divorce Elowen the moment the Sovereign contract was signed.”
Weston stared in disbelief. “Serena… she sold me out?”
“She gave them everything, son. Serena is walking away with three years of probation and a ruined family reputation. You, on the other hand, are facing seven to ten years in an upstate correctional facility.”
Weston dropped his head onto the steel table, a strangled wail tearing from his chest. “She was my wife! We were together eight years! How could she be so cruel?!”
Harrison leaned forward, tapping his finger firmly against the metal.
“Elowen gave you eight years of absolute loyalty, Weston. She cooked your meals, she cleaned your home, she endured your mother’s venom, and she anonymously saved your bankrupt company three separate times. She gave you the world, and you left her on a kitchen floor holding a dirty dish sponge so you could parade another woman in front of the city.”
May you like
Harrison stood up, buttoning his jacket. “You called her unpolished, Weston. But the truth is, you were never worthy of standing in her shadow.”
The buzzer sounded. Harrison turned and walked toward the heavy steel door, not looking back once as Weston’s pathetic screams echoed down the concrete hallway.
