From Damnation to Dominance: Revenge of the Abused Heir

2. A Painful Betrayal

“Get inside, murderer!” A Warden yelled contemptuously as he pushed the young man brutally into the cell. 

Victor staggered and fell to the ground, his body weak and fragile. He held to his bandaged head, as it keeps banging painfully   

The steel door of the prison cell slammed shut with a finality that echoed in Victor’s soul. It was the sound of his life crumbling down into pieces.  

The air in the cellblock was a thick, foul cocktail of sweat, disinfectant, and despair. 

His first day was a blur of processing—mugshots, fingerprints, the rough exchange of his own clothes for a coarse, orange jumpsuit that scratched at his skin. 

After some hours, some guards came in and dragged him out. 

The guards’ faces were blank slates, their eyes seeing not an ordinary man, but an hardened criminal. 

He was led to a visitation room, a space divided by a grimy plexiglass barrier. And there she was. 

Sandra, his fiancee.

She looked out of place, like a leaf getting withered. She sat steadily on the hard stool, her hands folded in her lap, her face a mask of carefully constructed sorrow. 

When he picked up the receiver on his side, her voice, tinny and distant through the phone, filled his ear.

“Victor,” she began, her voice trembling with feigned emotion. “I’m so sorry. I just… I needed you to know that I’m going to wait for you. When you get out, we’ll get married. Just like we planned, I'm not going to ditch you for anybody. It's a promise!”

Victor said nothing. He simply watched her, his eyes, once full of warmth for her, now as cold and hard as the glass between them.

Sandra shifted under his gaze, a flicker of discomfort crossing her features. “I’ve… I’ve spoken to some people, I made some arrangement for your safety. You won’t be bullied in here. You’ll be looked after. I made sure of it.”

His silence was a heavier accusation than any words could be. He could see the guilt beginning to prickle at the edges of her composure.

“You have to understand, Victor,” she pleaded, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It was for the family. Frank, he just couldn’t bare the hardship…

 This is just temporary suffering. A few years. And you’ll be compensated, properly, when you get out. Father Tobias has promised. We’ll take care of you.”

The words were so grotesquely transactional that a bitter taste filled his mouth. 

He couldn't believe such words was coming out from the he had loved since childhood. He was devastasted upon hearing it. 

They had sold his freedom, and now they were offering him a pension plan.

“Compensated?” Victor’s voice was a low, gravelly rasp, so different from his soft tone. “You think there’s a price for this? You think your rewards is something greater than my freedom and future.”

“Victor, please… you can do this for the family.” Sarah was about saying. 

“You stood there,” he continued, his voice gaining a sliver of its former strength, cutting her off. “You stood in that room, with your tears and your lies, and you pointed at me. 

You support the family, ganged up against me, and sent me to prison, Sandra. You helped them pour that liquor down my throat. 

You guys think Frank has more potential than I do, really? I was treated like nothing in my father's house. You think I won't amount to anything, right?” Victor's words was laced with hurt. His heart tightened painfully against his ribs. 

“No! Don't say that! I'm going to wait….” 

Sarah was interrupted rudely once again.

“Don’t talk to me about waiting. Don’t talk to me about the future.”

Her face crumpled, but the tears now seemed more from wounded pride than genuine remorse. “I was trying to protect you in the only way I could! You should be grateful for everything I have done for you! 

I stood by you and even promised to wait for return! I'm protecting you, Victor! You need to understand this!”

Victor's lips curved into a bitter smile. “You were protecting yourself,” Victor stated, the truth of it crystal clear in the stark light of his new reality. “I understand perfectly. You don't seem to love me anymore, and it's very fine!”

Victor bit his lip bitterly, “Get out of here, Sandra. Don’t ever think of coming back.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He placed the receiver back in its cradle with a soft, definitive click. 

He stood up, turned his back on her tear-streaked face, and walked away without a second glance.