Ariel sat alone in the observation room at Coles Group. The lights were low. The air was still. No guards. No Chase. Just her and a steel chair positioned directly across from another — separated by a glass panel that could slide away at the push of a button.
Then, Monica was escorted in.
Her hands were no longer cuffed, but the shackles on her soul clanked with every step. She looked thinner, hollow-eyed. Defeated — but strangely calm. She took her seat without speaking.
Ariel didn’t flinch. She stared across the glass with steel in her spine and fire behind her eyes.
A buzzer sounded. The partition slid away.
Silence.
Then:
“Say it,” Ariel said coldly.
Monica took a deep breath, blinking away tears that no longer held the power to cleanse her.
“I stole your son,” she said quiet
