The Lockout

The holding cell at the federal courthouse was a study in sensory deprivation. White walls, stainless steel bench, a buzzing light fixture that sounded like an angry wasp. Elena sat with her back to the door, counting the tiles on the floor. Seventy-two white. Seventy-two grey.

She had been processed. Fingerprinted. Mugshot. Her clothes—the stolen jacket, the jeans, the boots caked with asylum mud—were bagged and tagged. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit that smelled of industrial detergent and despair.

She had asked for a lawyer. They gave her a public defender who looked like he hadn't slept in a week. He told her the charges were serious. Kidnapping. Arson. Assault with a deadly weapon.

"It's a misunderstanding," Elena had said. "My brother-in-law is alive. My husband's family is running a fraudulent trust."

The lawyer had sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Mrs. St. Clair, the prosecution has a death certificate. They have a fire report. They have a statement from your husband claiming you suffered a breakdown."

"It's a lie."

"It's evidence," he said. "And right now, it's the only evidence that matters."

The door buzzed and clicked open.

Elena stood up, expecting Rossi. Expecting an interrogation.

But it wasn't Rossi.

It was Julian.

He stood in the doorway, flanked by a guard. He wasn't wearing handcuffs anymore. He was wearing a fresh suit, charcoal grey, perfectly pressed. His hair was combed. He looked like the CEO of a vineyard, not a man who had just sold his soul.

"Five minutes," the guard said, closing the door.

Elena stared at him. "How did you get in here?"

"Richard arranged it," Julian said. He didn't come closer. He stayed near the door, as if afraid she might bite. "He's very good at what he does."

"Richard is Arthur's son," Elena said. "He's your cousin."

Julian winced. "I know."

"You knew the whole time?"

"I suspected," Julian said. "Thomas looked like Father. And Arthur... Arthur always treated me differently. Like I was an investment, not a client."

He took a step forward.

"Elena, listen to me. They have everything. The police found the gun in your jacket. It has your prints on it."

"I took it from Arthur."

"Arthur says you brought it to the house," Julian said. "He says you threatened him. That you shot out the window in a rage."

"And the tape?" Elena asked. "The recording?"

"What tape?" Julian asked, his voice soft. "Rossi said the email was corrupted. The file was empty."

Elena felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. Corrupted. Or deleted. Victoria’s reach extended everywhere.

"They're going to put you away, Elena," Julian said. "For a long time. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless you plead guilty," Julian said. "Not to the kidnapping. But to the arson. A plea of temporary insanity. You go to a facility for a few years. You get help."

"Help?" Elena laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. "You mean I go to Serenity Hills? Or a place just like it? Where they can drug me until I forget?"

"It's better than prison," Julian said. "And if you do it... Mother will let you see the children."

"See them?" Elena stepped toward him, her hands balling into fists. "I am their mother, Julian! I don't want visitation rights granted by a woman who keeps baby fingers in a jar!"

Julian flinched. He looked at the floor.

"Please, Elena. It's the only way."

"No," she said. "The only way is the truth. The only way is Sebastian."

"Sebastian is dead," Julian said, his voice rising. "Why can't you accept that? Why do you have to destroy everything?"

"Because he's your brother!" Elena screamed. "Because he was a child! Because he deserved better than a basement and a lie!"

She advanced on him, backing him against the door.

"And so did you," she whispered. "You deserved a father who claimed you. Not a mother who used you as a prop."

Julian looked at her. His eyes were wet.

"I can't save you," he said. "I tried. I opened the gate. But you came back."

"I came back for you," she said.

He shook his head. "I'm not worth saving."

He knocked on the door. "Guard!"

The door opened.

"Wait," Elena said. "Where is he? Sebastian. Is he safe?"

Julian paused in the doorway. He looked back at her, his expression unreadable.

"He's where he belongs," Julian said. "It's for your own good."