Chapter 3: They Ain't Worthy

Catherine didn’t bother explaining. She lay back on her thin mattress, fingers laced behind her head, and said coldly, “That evil woman poisoned my father’s heart. There’s no way out of here. But if I ever get out, I’m putting a bullet in her skull.”

Alicia shuddered. She glanced at Catherine, fear sharpening her features. Catherine cut her a sidelong look. “You think your husband will come for you?”

Alicia’s chest tightened. She clenched her fists and forced out, “Yes. He’ll come for me. He’ll take me out of here.” The words didn’t match the tremor in her voice.

Catherine laughed, a hard, humorless sound. “You’re a cute idiot. He’s the one who sent you here. He’ll never let you out.”

“That’s impossible,” Alicia blurted, shaking her head. “Ethan would never do that to me. I mean—he loves me. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Whatever,” Catherine said flatly, and closed her eyes.

Alicia kept whispering to herself, “Ethan wouldn’t betray me. He’d never hurt me,” as if repetition could make it true. Catherine didn’t answer. When the dinner bell clanged, she rose without a word. Alicia followed, quiet and wary.

They ate, returned to the cell, and the silence thickened.

“Hey,” Alicia tried, tentative. Catherine didn’t respond.

After a long stretch of nothing, Alicia looked down at Ethan’s photo. Tears blurred the edges. She cried herself to sleep, sniffling and rubbing at her sore nose, the picture clutched in her hand.

At dawn, Alicia blinked awake and stared into the blank space ahead. Catherine was watching her intently, and the sudden realization made Alicia sit up quickly, nearly toppling over.

“You cry like a little girl who hasn’t had a toy to grow up with,” Catherine sneered. “I hope you stop crying after I prove what kind of scum you married.”

Alicia opened her mouth to ask something, but the roar of the guard announced, “Breakfast, all of you!”

Catherine rose and walked out as the cell-room doors opened. During breakfast, a masked guard called to Catherine, “Cathy, your stuff is here.”

Catherine glanced at Alicia and flashed an empty smile, then warned, “Eat two portions—you might not have an appetite later.” 

With that, Catherine stood on her feet with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and headed off to meet the guard.

Alicia picked at her rice, puzzling over her Catherine's words, watching the masked guard leave the dining hall with Catherine.

Back in the cell, a short while later Catherine was brought in with another guard. She walked in and hurled an envelope at Alicia, saying impatiently, “Your man is about to get married.”

Photos spilled onto the floor—images of Ethan and Emily together, her husband with her sworn sister. Alicia’s heart pounded. She bent over, hands trembling, and gathered the photos one by one. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief as she realized what they depicted.

“This is forged, right? It can’t be true,” she stammered.

Catherine fixed her with a cold, unblinking gaze. “You don’t believe the shit you just said right? Those photos are all over his social media, and they’ve announced their wedding. Read the magazine in there.”

Catherine settled back onto her mattress, precise and unreadable. She knew Alicia wouldn’t accept the truth easily.

Alicia turned the envelope over and picked up the magazine. The cover broke her heart. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered, “Why do you go through all this just to lie to me?”

Catherine watched in silence, her face impassive. Alicia, overwhelmed, slammed the magazines and photos onto the floor and wept through the night.

Dawn broke, and Catherine didn’t spare Alicia a glance. She rose, left for breakfast, and returned to find Alicia still sobbing in the cell. Catherine stretched out on her cot and went back to sleep, never once looking in Alicia’s direction.

By noon, Catherine got up for lunch without a word. As she ate, a shadow fell across her. She lifted her gaze.

“You done crying over that scum of a husband?” she asked, one brow arched, voice taunting.

Alicia’s cheeks burned. “I’m… hungry,” she murmured, fidgeting.

Catherine looked down and kept eating, ignoring her. After lunch they returned to the cell. There, Alicia clutched Ethan’s photo to her chest, tears spilling as she poured out everything she’d kept inside.

“I did so much for you,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I gave up schooling for you. When you had nothing, I gave you everything. I chased investors for your company. You were afraid of your own dreams, and I believed for you—until you did. Is this how you repay me?”

She wiped her cheeks, anger rising through the grief. “You sacrificed our love and every memory we made on the altar of your ambition. You have no conscience, Andy. I hate you. I hate you.”

Her sobs filled the cell.

Catherine’s expression hardened. She shot to her feet, crossed the room, and snatched the photo—and the envelope she’d given Alicia—straight from her hands. A flame flared; paper curled and blackened.

“What are you doing?” Alicia cried, eyes wide. She lurched forward, but Catherine shoved her back.

“Stay put,” Catherine snapped. “That bastard isn’t worth your tears. Start thinking about how you’re going to get the fuck out of here—and make them regret ever mistaking you for a fool.”