Chapter 17 - The Visitor's RoomThe federal detention facility on the outskirts of the city was a grim, gray concrete structure surrounded by high fences topped with razor wire. The air inside smelled of bleach and floor wax.
I sat at a steel table in the visitor's room, waiting for my brother. When the heavy iron door opened, Ethan walked in, dressed in a baggy orange jumpsuit, his hands loosely cuffed before him. He had lost weight, his face pale, and his young, once-arrogant features looked worn and defeated.
He sat down across from me, the metal chain of his handcuffs clinking against the steel table.
"Emily," he said, his voice quiet, stripped of the anger that had defined our last meeting. "Are you... are you here to see me go to jail?"
"I’m here to save you from five years in a maximum-security facility, Ethan," I said, sliding the transfer documents across the table. "Our father hid six point eight million dollars of cartel money in a Swiss account under your name. If the federal government has to go through the international courts to seize it, they will charge you with active participation in a money laundering conspiracy. You’ll serve the full five years."
Ethan looked at the document, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and confusion. "I swear, Emily... I didn't know about this. I knew Dad was moving money, but he never told me he put my name on an account in Switzerland."
"I know," I said softly. "He used us both, Ethan. He used my name to build his shell company, and he used your name to hide his stolen wealth. He didn't love you any more than he loved me. He just had a different use for you."
Ethan looked down at his cuffed hands, a single tear cutting a clean path through the dust on his cheek. "I’m sorry, Emily. For everything. For the way I laughed when Mom blamed you. For the way I stood by and let Dad hit you. I thought... I thought if I was on his side, he’d protect me."
"The only way to protect yourself now is to tell the truth," I said, pushing a pen toward him. "Sign the authorization. Let us return the money to the victims of the cartel shipping lines. If you cooperate, Sarah Vance has agreed to recommend a suspended sentence with three years of probation and community service."
Ethan didn't hesitate. He picked up the pen with his trembling, cuffed hand and signed his name at the bottom of the page.
"What's going to happen to Mom?" he asked, looking up at me.
"She’s cooperating too," I said. "She’s testifying against Dad’s remaining associates in exchange for immunity. She’s living in a small apartment, working as a receptionist at a dental clinic. It's a hard life, Ethan, but it's an honest one."
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Ethan nodded slowly, a faint, relieved smile appearing on his face for the first time in months. "Maybe... maybe when I get out of probation... we can be a real family. Without the mansion. Without the money."
"We can try, Ethan," I said, standing up and taking the signed document. "We can finally try."
