I never imagined my husband would force my hand ...

The fluorescent lights of the county jail holding area buzzed with an irritating, low-frequency hum that seemed to vibrate directly inside the skull.

The heavy steel door of visiting booth three clanked open, and Dominic was pushed inside by a corrections officer. He looked unrecognizable. The expensive designer suit he had worn the night before was gone, replaced by a coarse, ill-fitting orange jumpsuit that hung loosely over his slumped shoulders. His hair was messy, his face unshaven, and the arrogant, cocky smirk that had defined his face for years had been entirely replaced by a look of desperate, hollow panic.

He sat down heavily on the bolted metal stool on the other side of the thick plexiglass partition, his bloodshot eyes locking onto mine through the glass.

I sat calmly on the opposite side, my right hand resting safely in its white gauze wrap, looking at him with complete detachment.

“Audrey,” Dominic rasped, his voice cracking as he pressed his palms flat against the glass partition. “Audrey, please. You have to drop the charges. You have to call Eleanor Vance and tell her to call off the civil suit.”

I didn't move. I didn't speak. I just watched him sweat.

“I know I messed up,” Dominic babbled frantically, tears of pure self-pity welling up in his eyes. “I was stressed about the construction bids, and Mom got into my head, and... and I didn't mean to hurt your hand that bad, Audrey! It was just a mistake! We’ve been married for two years! We can fix this! We can go to counseling, we can leave Ohio, we can start over anywhere you want!”

“You didn't mean to hurt me?” I finally spoke, my voice quiet, cutting through the plexiglass with icy precision. “Dominic, you held my hand against a blazing burner while you watched television. You stood there and told me I was ruining your dinner. Your mother stepped over my body to pour another glass of wine.”

“That was Mom!” Dominic screamed, pounding his fist against the glass partition in a sudden flash of his old, ugly temper before immediately shrinking back in terror as a corrections officer banged a nightstick against the outside door. “Mom pushed me to do it! She always said you weren't good enough for our family! It was her influence, Audrey! I swear to God!”

I let out a cold, humorless laugh.

“Don't blame your mother for your own cruelty, Dominic. You chose every punch. You chose every insult. You chose every dollar you stole from my earnings to fund your useless toys while I worked two jobs and coded your entire business from a kitchen table.”

Dominic slumped forward against the glass, his shoulders shaking as he began to sob—not out of remorse, but out of sheer, unadulterated terror at the consequences crashing down around him.

“What am I going to do?” Dominic whispered, his voice breaking into a pathetic whine. “My dad’s partners suspended him indefinitely. Our bank accounts are completely frozen. The judge denied bail twice. They’re saying I’m looking at twelve years in federal prison for the corporate fraud charges alone, plus the aggravated battery counts. My life is completely over, Audrey.”

“No, Dominic,” I said, standing up slowly from my metal stool and adjusting the collar of my blazer. “Your life isn't over. You’re just finally going to experience what it feels like to have no control, no money, and no one to protect you from your own actions.”

“Audrey! Wait! Don't leave!” Dominic shrieked, sliding off his stool and pressing his face against the glass as I turned toward the exit. “Please! What am I supposed to do without you?!”

I paused at the heavy steel door, glancing back over my shoulder one last time with a look of absolute, liberating indifference.