He lifted the phone receiver with shaking hands.
“Valeria,” he whispered desperately. “You came because you still care about me, right?”
I remained standing instead of sitting.
“No,” I answered honestly. “I came because final sentencing paperwork was approved this morning.”
Fear entered his expression immediately.
I continued calmly.
“Stacy currently works double shifts at a diner outside Riverside after losing every dollar she stole. Your mother entered a publicly funded senior housing facility last month. And tomorrow, you receive a ten-year federal sentence.”
Julian slammed his palm against the glass.
“You’re destroying my life over mistakes!”
I stared at him without emotion.
“No, Julian. You destroyed your own life the moment you believed kindness meant weakness and loyalty meant ownership.”
His breathing became uneven.
“I loved you,” he insisted desperately.
I almost pitied him then.
Almost.
“You loved comfort,” I corrected softly. “You loved access. You loved power attached to my family name. But genuine love would have required honesty, and honesty was always too expensive for you.”