WANDSWORTH.

A yellow taxi halted outside the towering walls of Wandsworth Prison. Evania Taylor stepped out slowly, clutching her handbag tightly with strength.

The prison stood before her like a concrete monster, cold and silent beneath the grey afternoon sky. Its high walls and iron gates made her chest tighten.

She was late, but right now, lateness did not matter. 

Only Marcus did. Her younger brother had spent weeks behind those walls, and every day felt like another piece of him was being stolen. She could not afford delays. She could not afford mistakes. Not anymore.

She hurried through the gates, signed the visitor register, and was led inside. The sharp smell of disinfectant filled the narrow corridor. Guards moved past with heavy footsteps, their expressions blank, as if human suffering had become background noise.

Near the visitors’ room, Mr. Thomas, Marcus’s lawyer, sat on the wooden bench, looking older than usual. His bald head reflected the harsh white lights above, and his wrinkled suit looked as tired as his face.

Evania walked straight to him. Thomas stood slowly. He did not smile. She frowned, anxiously glaring at his wrinkled forehead.

“Marcus was transferred this morning,” he said.

For a second, she thought she had heard him wrong.

“What?”

“He was moved at dawn. Orders came from above.”

The news struck her so hard, she lost her footing. She grabbed the bench for support.

“No,” she said immediately. “No, no, that’s impossible. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her voice rose sharply, drawing glances from nearby guards. She slammed both hands against the metal bench.

“You knew I was coming today!”

Thomas adjusted his tie, avoiding her eyes.

“I was informed late myself. I trusted the Chief to handle it.”

He said it too calmly with ease. As though Marcus were paperwork instead of a frightened young man locked behind bars.

Evania stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s all you have to say?” she asked.

Thomas sighed, already stepping back. Then he turned and started walking down the corridor.Just like that. He left, running from responsibility like always. Evania stood frozen for one painful second before anger pushed the words out of her.

“Go on and run like you always do!”

Her voice cracked against the prison walls. Thomas did not stop. His footsteps continued down the hall until he disappeared around the corner. The silence that followed felt cruel.

Evania pressed both hands against her face, forcing herself not to break down in the middle of the corridor. Not now, not here, where vulnerability served as fuel to the prison wardens.

She paced outside the visitors’ room until finally a guard called her name and led her toward the Chief Warden’s office.

The man behind the desk looked half-bored and half-annoyed, like people begging for mercy had become part of his morning routine.

Evania sat down, her hands trembling.

“Please,” she said. “If there's anything you can do. I just need my brother brought back here. Please.” She pleaded.

The Chief Warden glanced at the clock on the wall and adjusted his tilted beret.

“Well,” he said, “you’re in luck.”

She leaned forward.

“Your brother is already being returned.”

For the first time that day, Evania could breathe.

Relief rushed through her so suddenly it made her dizzy.

“Thank you.”

However the relief did not last, because when Marcus finally arrived, he looked nothing like himself. He was too pale and famished.

His hands trembled as the guards escorted him into the visitors’ room. His eyes looked hollow, sunken with exhaustion, and his body smaller somehow, like fear had physically reduced him.

Good enough he was alive. That was enough for now. The guards left him sitting across from her. Evania reached for the glass divider instinctively, even though she knew she could not touch him.

Her throat tightened.

“How are you holding up?”

Marcus gave a weak shrug.

“I’m getting used to it.”

His voice was quiet, but his clenched jaw betrayed him. He was terrified.

Evania fought the tears burning behind her eyes.

“No,” she said firmly. “Don’t get used to it. I’m getting you out of here.”

Marcus looked at her, and for a moment he looked like the younger brother she used to protect from school bullies and bad dreams.

“Thomas says we need more money,” she continued. “Once I get it, we can push again.”

His expression changed instantly. A straight reaction of fear.

“No, Eva.” 

“Yes.” She pressed.

“No.” His voice grew stronger. “You cannot borrow again. You already did too much.”

“It’s the only way.” She whispered.

She leaned back in the cold metal chair and exhaled slowly.

He did not understand, or maybe he understood too well.

Every loan, every late payment, every sacrifice had already started swallowing her life whole. Nonetheless she had no choice. Marcus was all the family she had left and if she had to drown to keep him breathing, then so be it.

A guard standing by the door shifted. His shadow stretched across the floor.

“Time’s up.”

Two cruel words in their simplicity, enough to separate the two, and end the conversation.

Evania stood too quickly.

“Marcus—”

He gave her a small smile, the kind people used when trying to comfort someone they knew they could not save.

“I’ll be okay.”

She hated that smile, because it was a lie. The guards took him away before she could say anything else. She watched until he disappeared into the corridor.

Then the weight of everything crashed down at once. The debt, suspension, fear and helplessness. She stood there gasping for air that suddenly felt too thick to breathe.

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them. Around her, the prison moved on like nothing had happened. Other families cried in corners while some held hands through glass, others prayed.

Some simply stared, already broken. Pain lived here. It sat in every room like old furniture. Evania wiped her face and forced herself to walk.

She would not fall apart here, not after rescuing her brother back to Wandsworth. As she reached the main hallway, her phone buzzed in her bag.

She pulled it out. It was Becky.

Evania answered immediately. On the other end, Becky sounded like she had just run a marathon.

“Eva, you are in serious trouble!”

Evania closed her eyes.

“Wonderful. What now?”

“Jonathan isn’t firing you.”

She stopped walking.

“…What?”

“Not yet,” Becky rushed on. “There’s a corporate dinner tonight at La Casa. Apparently, you’ve been invited.”

Evania frowned.

“I'm suspended, remember.”

“I know. That’s why everyone is talking.”

Becky lowered her voice.

“Some people think he wants to make an example of you. Others think he’s testing you.”

Evania stepped outside the prison gates into the late afternoon sun.The warmth did nothing. Her body still felt cold.

“Testing me?”

“Yes, or humiliating you publicly. Honestly, he's capable of both.”

That sounded painfully accurate.

Becky sighed.

“Eva, this could be your chance to make it right with him.”

Evania stared back at the prison walls behind her. They stared back with a cold deep unforgiving expression, just like Jonathan.

The man whose voice still lingered in her head. The man whose presence made her feel both furious and dangerously alive. 

She hated it, because she needed this job, not for pride or ambition. For the extra fifty thousand pounds standing between her brother and freedom. She swallowed hard.

“If he wants a performance,” she said quietly, “I’ll give him one.”

“That’s my girl,” Becky said.

The call ended.

For a moment, Evania simply stood there, caught between fear and determination. Then her phone buzzed again. This time, it was not Becky.

It was an official message. She opened it. An invitation to La Casa.

Outstanding Employee Recognition Dinner.

She stared at the screen. Then, despite everything, a small laugh escaped her.

Evania saw a narrow, dangerous window. Whether Jonathan wanted to embarrass her, or test her, or maybe, just maybe, this was her chance to explain herself without formal anger standing between them.

She slipped the phone back into her bag and squared her shoulders. She was ready to fight. For Marcus, for herself and for the life she refused to lose.

Jonathan Walter might be powerful, cold, and impossible to read, but Evania Taylor was done being afraid. She tightened her grip on her bag and started walking down the pavement, the city stretching ahead of her.

Tonight would not be easy but redemption rarely arrived dressed in comfort. Sometimes, it arrived wearing heels and carrying an invitation to dinner.