Chapter 8 - Behind Glass and Iron
The visiting room at Rikers Island smelled of rust, stale bleach, and defeat.
When Eleanor Sterling was escorted in by the two correctional officers, she looked unrecognizable. The immaculate platinum-blonde chignon she had maintained for thirty years was greasy and tangled against her shoulders. She wore an oversized orange jumpsuit that swallowed her frail frame, and the plastic handcuffs clinked against the steel table as she sat down across the reinforced glass divider.
She grabbed the telephone receiver with trembling, manic energy. I picked up mine with slow, surgical composure.
"Claire!" Eleanor’s voice was a ragged screech through the speaker. "You ungrateful, malicious little viper! Tell them to drop the charges! Do you know what they do to women like me in here? They made me strip! They took my pearl earrings! They put me in a cell with murderers!"
"You tried to push me down thirty marble steps, Eleanor," I said, my voice quiet, completely unmoved by her hysterics. "Technically, you belong with them."
"I am your mother!" she roared, slamming her cuffed hands against the plexiglass. An officer immediately stepped forward, his hand resting on his baton, until Eleanor shrank back into her seat. "I gave you life! I fed you, I clothed you, I put you in the best finishing schools in Switzerland!"
"Grandma paid for Switzerland," I reminded her. "Grandma paid for every brick of the townhouse, every summer in Saint-Tropez, and every tailored suit Richard wore to pretend he was an investment genius. And what did you do to thank her? You tried to forge her power of attorney while she lay dying of cancer."
Eleanor’s pale eyes widened in shock. "How... how do you know about that?"
"Because Nathan found the notary drafts in Richard’s private safe yesterday," I replied, leaning in until my reflection in the glass overlapped with her terrified face. "You didn't just try to kill me for the ring. You were desperate because Grandma’s estate had an audit clause that triggered upon my twenty-eighth birthday. You knew that in three months, the trust would open, and the world would discover that you and Richard stole two million dollars from her palliative care accounts."
Eleanor began to hyperventilate, her aristocratic veneer peeling away completely to reveal the hollow monster underneath. "Claire, listen to me... your father is ruined. They evicted Sophia. She called me from a payphone crying! If you testify against me at the grand jury, I will spend fifteen years in Bedford Hills! You can't do this to your own family!"
"I’m not doing anything to you, Eleanor," I said, holding up my left hand so the platinum ring touched the glass directly in front of her eyes. The marquise diamond caught the dim prison lights. "You built this trap with your own arrogance, greed, and cruelty. I’m just letting the door slam shut."
"I will curse you until the day I die!" she screamed, tears streaming down her hollow cheeks as she fought against the officers who grabbed her by the shoulders. "You will never be happy! You are cold! You are heartless!"
"No, Eleanor," I said softly as the guard dragged her backward toward the iron door. "I’m just an architect. And I just demolished your house."
May you like
I hung up the phone and walked out into the corridor without looking back.
***