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“Surely you know by now that I won’t let something as trivial as legal or lawful matters stand in the way of what I want. I have unresolved issues with one Sera Brookes, and I needed all the information about her I could find. Imagine my surprise when I found out she gave birth to a little girl fifteen years ago.” He smiled evilly.
“It offered me the opportunity to lodge the perfect revenge against her. Do you know, if not for her, and your father, for that matter, your adopted parents might still have been alive.”
Chiara winced but buried that information to ponder over later since it hinted at what she had been suspecting—that he had been involved in their deaths.
“You know who my real father is?”
“Of course, I do, dearie, and if I arrived a few minutes later, so would you have. I have unlimited resources. A little something like not disclosing his name on a birth certificate or adoption papers wasn’t going to stop me.” Sanchigo blew a smoke ring at the ceiling. “Do you want to know who he is?”
“Yes, of course, I do.”
“Hmm.” Before Chiara could react, he snatched the folder up from the floor and closed it. “All in due time. For now, and before I tell you who he is, I need to know your thoughts. Now that you know who your mother is, how do you feel?”
“How am I supposed to feel? It’s just a name, and it means shit. The only thing that matters is that she didn’t want me. My father didn’t want me. They both threw me away, and for that...” Her eyes grew cold. “For that, I hate them. I fucking hate them!”
“That’s good to hear, since it mirrors what I feel about them. At least in that sense, we’re on the same page. You are here because I need you to make them pay. Your birth parents split my family apart, like they did yours by throwing you as a little babe to the wolves.” His eyes turned dark. “They must pay, and you will help me.”
Chiara straightened, her eyes hard and cold, nothing left of the sweet innocence, the happy and committed schoolgirl of a couple of months before. The smile curling her lips was menacing.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Ah, now that’s the spirit, dearie. Finally, you show the colors of a true Sanchigo!”
Federal Correctional Institution, Tallahassee…
“You’re a week late, Brinkman.” Jessica Hewitt didn’t bother to hide the animosity in her tone as she sat down facing him. She was irritated, and it showed in her entire demeanor.
“You were the attorney general for years, you know as well as I do that you don’t just walk into the Chief Justice’s office. He’s a busy man.”
“Ah, so you don’t hold as much accord with him as you so confidently claimed when you were here last week. Why am I not surprised? You were always prone to blowing your own horn.” She grimaced as her fingers got caught on tangles as she ran them through her hair. Without proper shampoo and conditioner, it was a challenge to keep her naturally curly hair healthy. As it were, the once shiny and silky tresses looked brittle and were spotted white with split ends. She hated it, as much as she loathed being locked up in this wretched prison.
“So, did you get it, or are you wasting my time?”
“I got it,” Brinkman grunted as he attempted to settle his large body on the chair that was much too small for his size.
Jessica would be lying if she didn’t admit to enjoying his discomfort. There was something about Senator Brinkman that didn’t sit well with her. For one, she never trusted the picture he presented to the world of a politician with no agenda other than to serve his state. Until he had been elected senator, he had shown no empathy or compassion for his fellow countrymen.
Prior to running for senator, he owned one of the largest private banks in the United States. As far as she knew, he was still the major shareholder in it. He was filthy rich and made no secret of his wealth since he lived as large as the body he carted around.
Come to think of it, his bank was one of only a few that hadn’t been targeted with the scheme the Golden Wizards had attempted that got her locked up. Her gaze sharpened as she looked at him.
Jessica Hewitt didn’t believe in coincidences. Now, more than ever, her senses sparked with suspicion. If this bastard was one of those who Sanchigo had dealt with behind the scenes, she would find out… and he would pay for hiding while the rest of them had to suffer the consequences of their failure.
“The suspense is killing me, Brinkman,” she sing-songed in a dry voice, her expression one of boredom.
“I’m not an idiot, Ms. Hewitt. Do you honestly think I’ll just pass this along without you owning up to your part of the deal?” He waved the A4 sized envelope in the air. “Tell me what I want to know and it’s yours.”
“Not before I see that document. See, it’s the one thing I learned locked up in here. I don’t trust anyone.” She held her hands up. “Don’t worry, as you so rightly said, the feeling of mistrust is mutual. I won’t touch it but you will hold it so I can read the entire document and verify that the seal and signature on it are the real thing.”
“That I can do,” Brinkman grunted as he pulled the legal document free of the envelope and held it up in front of her to read. He turned the pages when instructed. As the minutes ticked away, his annoyance and impatience grew. “Hurry it up, won’t you? I assure you it’s authentic.”
Jessica ignored him and continued scrutinizing every sentence in the legal exoneration notice. She had seen the stamp and the Chief Justice’s signature more than often enough to know it was the real thing. Relief washed over her, but she refused to let it show on her face. She sat back.
“Impressive, Senator Brinkman. To be honest, when you didn’t appear as promised, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Enough. I offered you an out. Now, it’s your turn to own up.”
“Pen.”
