Chapter 8 - The Confrontation at Seagoville (1800 Words)Six months later.
The Federal Correctional Institution at Seagoville sat under a bleak, gray sky thirty miles southeast of Dallas. High chain-link fences topped with razor wire surrounded the drab concrete buildings, punctuated by guard towers overlooking the muddy grounds.
Ethan sat inside a small, sterile visitor room.
The room smelled of floor polish and stale coffee. A thick acrylic glass divider separated the visitor booth into two halves, with small metallic speaker grilles set into the center.
The heavy steel door on the inmate side clicked open.
A guard guided Victor Cole into the booth.
The former billionaire oil magnate was almost unrecognizable. He wore a baggy, faded khaki prison jumpsuit. His hair was completely white, thin and unkempt. His posture was slouched, his once-formidable shoulders curved inward. He looked fragile, old, and defeated.
Victor sat down on the hard plastic stool across from Ethan, his hands shackled to his waist belt. He slowly picked up the black telephone receiver mounted to the wall.
Ethan picked up his receiver.
For a long minute, neither man spoke. The crackle of static filled the line between them.
“You came,” Victor spoke first, his voice hollow, dry, and lacking any of its former booming authority.
“You sent three formal requests through the warden’s office,” Ethan replied, his voice completely calm. “I decided to grant you ten minutes.”
Victor looked at Ethan through the glass. He stared at Ethan’s jaw—where the scar from his punch had faded into a faint, barely visible white line.
“Daniel was transferred to the federal unit in Louisiana last week,” Victor said, looking down at his shackled hands. “He won't talk to me. He blames me for everything. He says I ruined his life by pushing him into the company.”
“Daniel made his own choices, Dad,” Ethan said. “Just like you made yours.”
Victor let out a raspy, dry laugh. “Do you know what my day looks like now, Ethan? I wake up at 5:00 a.m. I clean floor grease in the kitchen for twelve hours a day. I eat slop on a tray. I sleep on a steel cot in a cell six feet wide.”
“I know,” Ethan said softly.
Victor’s eyes suddenly flared with a flicker of his old, bitter rage, his hands slamming against the counter, rattling his chains. “I built an empire! I built a $1.2 billion company from nothing! I gave you a life of luxury that millions of people would kill for! And you threw it all into the gutter because of some dirty water in a small town nobody cares about!”
Ethan didn't flinch. He didn't move an inch. He simply watched his father’s anger burn itself out against the thick glass wall.
“You still think the company was your empire, Dad,” Ethan said quietly. “It wasn't an empire. It was a crime scene. And the people in that small town care about their children’s health just as much as you cared about your stock price.”
Victor breathed heavily, his chest heaving, until his rage once again dissolved into pathetic exhaustion. He slumped back onto the stool.
“Why did you come here today, Ethan?” Victor asked, his voice cracking with desperate confusion. “To gloat? To see me in this jump suit? To tell me you won?”
“No,” Ethan answered, looking his father straight in the eyes. “I came here to give you back something you dropped.”
Ethan pulled a small, worn object from his pocket and set it against the glass.
It was an old, faded photograph taken twenty years ago. It showed a twelve-year-old Ethan and a fourteen-year-old Daniel standing beside their father on a fishing boat in Galveston, all three of them smiling before the greed, the cruelty, and the abuse took over.
Victor stared at the photograph. A tear welled up in his tired eye and rolled slowly down his wrinkled cheek.
“I came here to let you know that I forgive you, Dad,” Ethan said softly.
Victor looked up, startled. “You... you forgive me?”
“Yes,” Ethan said smoothly. “I forgive you for the punch. I forgive you for throwing me into the rain. I forgive you for treating me like an enemy for thirty-two years. Because as long as I carried anger toward you, you still controlled me.”
Victor’s hand trembled as he touched the glass right over the photo. “Ethan... I...”
“I forgive you, Dad,” Ethan repeated quietly. “But I will never come back here. This is the last time you will ever see my face.”
Ethan set the phone receiver back onto its wall hook.
He stood up from his chair, buttoned his jacket, and turned toward the exit door.
May you like
Behind the glass, Victor grabbed his receiver, slamming his free hand against the glass, weeping and yelling Ethan’s name, but the sound was completely blocked by the thick acrylic barrier.
Ethan didn't turn back. He opened the heavy door, stepped out into the bright sunshine outside the prison walls, and took a deep, full breath of clean air.
