Katelyn took the bottle without hesitation.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, unscrewing the cap and taking several long gulps.
The cool water seemed to wash away the weight pressing down on her chest, leaving her slightly lighter.
“It’s Jeff and Sharon,” she said finally.
“We need to go to the prison.”
They had been demanding her presence. Though she’d initially ignored their requests, she now felt it was time to face them, especially with the Wheeler Group crisis mostly resolved. It was time to tell them about Lise’s death. Vincent said, “Alright.”
Without further discussion, the car roared to life as it sped toward the prison.
Forty minutes later, they arrived.
Katelyn turned to Vincent, her expression softening for a brief moment.
“Mr. Adams, could you please wait here?”
After all, she couldn’t risk the Baileys seeing Vincent—who knew what unpleasant things they could say.
Vincent gave her a nod.
“Okay,” he replied.
He watched as she walked toward the prison entrance while he stayed behind, seated in the driver’s seat.
Inside the prison, Katelyn faced the Bailey couple. Their frailty was evident—the years and their own choices had worn them down to mere shadows of their former selves. Yet, her heart remained cold. Their plight was a bed they had made for themselves, and she had no sympathy to spare.
Once the couple sat down across from her, Katelyn wasted no time.
“What do you want?”
She had no patience for pleasantries, knowing they would only churn her stomach. Just laying eyes on the Baileys was enough to stir her discomfort, their history with Lise still sharp in her mind.
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Jeff and Sharon exchanged glances. Finally, Sharon mustered a forced smile, her voice syrupy and coaxing.
“Katelyn, we raised you, didn’t we? Now that you’re living the high life, surely you can spare a thought for us.”
Before, they could get in touch with Lise, but when she became unreachable, they were forced to turn to Katelyn. Life in prison was unbearable, and they couldn’t stand another moment of it.
Katelyn’s lip curled into a sneer.
“I’m not going to save you!” she said bluntly.
Her words made their intentions clear—she knew exactly why they had summoned her. Even now, they showed no remorse. Did they truly think she’d swoop in and pull them out of the mess they’d created? What gave them the idea that she’d be willing to offer assistance?
Jeff’s face darkened, his attempt at restraint fraying at the edges. Despite their discomfort, they had to swallow their irritation, knowing they needed her help.
Still, he tried again, his voice softer this time.
“Sweetheart, we’re old. If we stay here much longer, this place will bury us alive. Can you really sit by and let that happen?”
Life behind bars had turned every day into a waking nightmare. The relentless work, the bruises from beatings, the constant fear—it was a hell he could no longer endure. It was worse than any gang from the toughest neighborhoods. Just the idea of it was enough to make Jeff quiver with fear.
.
.
.