Chapter 4 - ROCK BOTTOM
Rikers Island was a sensory nightmare. The smell of bleach and unwashed bodies, the relentless screaming, the cold steel of the cell bars—it was a brutal contrast to the silk sheets of the Grand Meridian. I spent three days in holding before my arraignment. My firm publicly fired me and announced they were fully cooperating with the authorities. My friends stopped answering calls. I was utterly, completely alone.
On the fourth day, a guard tapped the bars. "Carter. Visitor."
I expected Arthur. Instead, walking into the sterile visitation room with a posture made of pure steel, was Claire. She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, but her gaze was sharp and unyielding.
I picked up the phone, my hand trembling. "Claire... Noah... is he okay?"
"He's safe," she said, her voice icy and detached. "Which is more than you ever ensured for him."
"Claire, I am so sorry. You have to believe me, I didn't steal the money. Vanessa—"
"I know," she interrupted. "I have the forensic reports. If I didn't know you were framed, I wouldn't be here. I'd let you rot."
Tears pricked my eyes. "Please. Help me. I have nothing."
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"You have exactly what you earned," she said coldly. "But Noah deserves a father who isn't a convicted felon, even if that father is a failure of a husband. I am going to help your legal team prove the money was stolen by a third party. But in exchange, you are signing full physical and legal custody of Noah over to me. You will get zero visitation unless I deem it appropriate. You will sign over the deed to the Greenwich house. You get nothing but your freedom."
"I'll sign it," I said without hesitation. It was the first time in my life I wasn't negotiating. "Just keep my boy safe."
