Page 49 of Dark Prince

Outside the tinted windows of the sedan, I watch the overcast sky press down on the city like a heavy blanket, but there's still a hint of spring in the air, a promise of renewal and new beginnings. I'm on my way to the jail where Sharon's being held, ready to close this chapter once and for all.

However, my thoughts keep drifting back to Maura, to our future, to the little life growing inside her. Today's a big day—it’s the day we find out if we're having a son or a daughter.

My phone buzzes with a text, pulling me back from my reverie.

I'm at the hospital with Elena and Lily. And yes, our personal army is here, too. I can't wait to see you later.

I can't help but smile, imagining the scene at the hospital, our extended family there for this momentous occasion. I wanted to be there, too, but Maura insisted that I make sure Sharon was out of our lives for good, and it was important to her that I go to jail.

I wish I could be there right now. I can't wait to hear all about it. Do you have any hints for me?

Her reply comes quick, laced with her characteristic playfulness.

Nice try, Mr. I-Can-Get-Anything-I-Want. You'll have to wait until you get home. No spoilers!

You're killing me here. All right, I'll play by the rules this time. I love you.

Love you, too. Hurry back!

The exchange warms me, a stark contrast to the cold formality of the task ahead. But it also reminds me of what's waiting for me once this is over, what I'm fighting for.

The car pulls up to the jail, and I steel myself for the confrontation with Sharon. I know this meeting is necessary, a final dotting of the i's and crossing of the t's in the saga she dragged us into. Yet my mind is elsewhere, with Maura and the life we're all eagerly awaiting.

With a deep breath, I step out of the car.

Striding toward the jail's entrance, my steps are measured, and my mind is a blend of anticipation and resolve. Beside me, my bodyguard keeps pace. The driver waits with the engine idling.

The jail looms before us, a stark, imposing structure of concrete and steel, the walls whispering tales of regret and retribution. The security process is thorough, the guards patting me and my bodyguard down for weapons. Metal detectors beep their cold approval as we pass, and eyes—wary and watchful—follow our every move.

Finally, we're ushered into the visiting area, a room stark in its functionality. Chairs and tables are bolted to the floor, and a glass partition is the only barrier between worlds. It's there, in a sanitized space of whispered conversations and silent prayers, that I wait for Sharon.

She arrives, a shadow of the formidable enemy we faced. Gone is the polished exterior, the confident arrogance, the carefully curated image of power and control. Instead, she's sporting the standard jail orange jumpsuit, its drabness a stark contrast to her former glory. Her face, devoid of makeup, shows the wear of sleepless nights and unyielding stress; her features are drawn, her posture slumped yet still exhibiting a small sliver of unyielding defiance.

I feel a surge of rage boil within me as she sits across from me. It's a visceral reaction, a primal response to the sight of the person who dared to threaten everything I hold dear.

“What the hell do you want?” she spits out, her voice rough, the veneer of civility long since eroded by her circumstances. Her eyes, once sharp and calculating, now burn with a combination of defiance and desperation. “You don’t deserve a second of my time after what you did to me.”

I can't help but offer a wry comment as Sharon settles into her seat, trying to find a comfortable position amidst the chains and handcuffs, “You're looking well,” I say.

She rolls her eyes, a gesture so quintessentially Sharon, even behind the glass. “Spare me your bullshit,” she retorts, her tone dripping with disdain. “Why are you here?” she presses, eager to cut through the pleasantries and get to the heart of the matter.

Leaning in, my voice is a blade of ice, “I'm here for your last words to Maura.” The statement hangs between us, stark and unyielding.

Confusion flickers across her face, quickly replaced by a sneer. “Last words? Are you planning on playing executioner now, Luk?”

I shake my head slowly and deliberately. “No, Sharon. The law will handle your punishment. But you're on the hook for a laundry list of serious crimes, including murder, kidnapping, and attempted murder times two. They consider our unborn baby’s life was being threatened as well when you put the gun to my wife’s head. And your so-called loyal followers can’t stop talking about how you murdered Maura’s father. They, along with Maura, are all willing to testify that you confessed you were responsible for his death. There's a very good chance you'll be spending the rest of your life in a place much worse than this.” My words are cold, a mirror reflecting the grim reality of her situation. “So, I figured I'd offer you one last chance to say something kind, show some sort of remorse for once in your life."

Her laughter is hollow, mocking. “Kind? Remorseful? You don't know me at all. I’ve got nothing to say to that little brat. I have no regrets about any of it.”

As she scoffs at the idea, my attention is momentarily drawn to another prisoner, a thin, middle-aged woman with stringy blonde hair, making her way to the visiting booth adjacent to ours. Our eyes briefly meet, and there's a silent acknowledgment.

I quickly refocus on Sharon. “Don't get too comfortable with the idea of me rotting away in here,” she taunts, leaning back comfortably as if the cold, unforgiving walls of a jail cell are not her new home. “I've got resources and plenty of money left over to pay for a top-notch legal team.”

Her confidence is infuriating.

“And they're telling me there's a good chance I can cut a deal with the Feds,” she continues, her smirk widening, “and that I can lessen my sentence by turning over some valuable information.”

“By turning on your allies and your own son,” I counter, my voice flat. It's a confirmation of what I've suspected all along. She’ll go to any length to save her own skin.

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