Chapter 3
Eight months later, in the prison labor workshop, Natalie sat there, mechanically sewing clothes, her fingers riddled with needle marks.
After the miscarriage surgery, she had been so ill she nearly didn't survive.
Her mother's monthly visits were the only thing keeping her going.
Her mother was the only person she cared about.
"0347. Emergency visit!" the guard called out.
Natalie's heart skipped a beat. She felt a sudden sense of dread.
It wasn't visitation day yet.
In the visitation room, Natalie's uncle stood there, his eyes red and swollen. "Nat..."
He choked out, "Your mom... She had a heart attack last night. She's gone."
"Gone?" Natalie echoed in a daze, "Where did she go?"
"She passed away," Natalie's uncle broke down in tears. "She did everything she could to find a lawyer for you.
"Yesterday, she heard they'd tracked down someone who used to live across from the terrace. That person might have caught something on their dashcam. She got so overwhelmed, and then..."
Natalie sat there, completely numb, unable to respond.
"Your mom wanted you to know," Natalie's uncle said, wiping his tears. "She said she was sorry she couldn't protect you. She also said not to hate Richard. Hating him is exhausting. She wants you to keep living your life..."
"I want to see her," Natalie suddenly said.
"Her body will be cremated tomorrow. She's at the funeral home today," her uncle replied.
"I want to see my mom one last time." Natalie stood up and turned to the guard. "I'm applying for leave to visit. According to the rules, if an immediate family member passes away, I can..."
"No," a cold voice echoed from the doorway.
Richard walked in.
Eight months had gone by, and he was still as handsome and tall as ever, though there was a new exhaustion etched into his features.
He looked at Natalie, his eyes full of conflicting emotions. "You're not allowed to leave."
"That's my mother!" Natalie shouted at him for the first time. "Richard, I'm begging you, please let me see her one last time. That's all I ask."
"Vivian can barely get out of bed, and her emotions are still unstable." Richard turned his gaze away. "She relapsed as soon as she heard you might be coming out. Natalie, she's been bedridden for eight months because of you. What more do you want?"
"What do I want?" Natalie let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "I want to see my mom one last time. Richard, my mom is dead. She's dead!"
"So what?" Richard's voice was cold and unyielding. "When Vivian fell, her mother spent the whole night begging outside the emergency room. This is payback."
Payback.
This word killed the last bit of warmth in Natalie's heart.
Natalie stopped crying, stopped fighting. She stared at Richard, her eyes empty, cold as a bottomless lake. "Fine.
"As you wish, Richard.
"From this moment on, Natalie is gone.
"The one who survives will remember everything."
Natalie turned to the guard. "Take me back to my cell."
She didn't look at Richard again.
As Natalie was leaving the visitation room, she heard Richard speak from behind her. "The trial's next month, I'll make sure the lawyer does his best for your appeal."
Natalie didn't slow down.
It didn't matter anymore.
Nothing mattered anymore.
*****
Three years later, the iron gate slowly opened.
Natalie stepped out, her thin frame casting a long shadow in the morning light.
She wore the same clothes she had on when she first went to prison, now hanging loosely on her.
A black car was parked outside.
The window rolled down, and James Walker greeted Natalie with a warm, gentle smile.
He got out of the car, holding a beige coat. "Nat, welcome back."
James gently draped the coat over her shoulders.
Natalie didn't refuse.
The coat was warm, its fabric holding a trace of sunlight.
"Thank you, James," Natalie said, her voice flat.
James looked at her pale, eerily calm face and felt a pang in his chest. "Come on, get in. I'll grab you something to eat."
"No, thanks." Natalie shook her head. "Take me to Walker Architecture Studio. I want to start working right away."
"You need to rest," James said.
"I need to work," Natalie cut him off, her eyes unwavering. "While I was inside these past three years, I read 328 professional books and sketched 471 design drafts. James, I'm not some victim who needs your sympathy. I'm a designer."
James paused, then smiled. "Alright. Let's go to the office."
The car drove away from the prison, leaving the iron gate behind for good.
Natalie took one last look in the rearview mirror, where the gray prison walls were reflected, growing smaller and smaller as they faded into the distance.
Goodbye, past.
Goodbye, Natalie.
*****
Meanwhile, in the CEO's office at Ford Holdings, Richard stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding the report Michael had brought him.
Michael said, "She's getting out today.
"James picked her up.
"They went to Walker Architecture Studio."
Michael hesitated, then added, "By the way, Mr. Ford, Ms. Lane is asking again when you'll announce your engagement."
Richard didn't say a word.
These past three years, he found himself dreaming about Natalie more and more often.
He dreamed of those early days after they got married, when she'd fumble around the kitchen every morning, trying to cook his favorite breakfast.
He dreamed of the milk she used to leave outside his study door whenever he worked late.
He dreamed of the last time he saw her, her lifeless, empty eyes, and the child that never got to see the world.
"Mr. Ford?" Michael asked, his voice cautious.
Richard snapped back to reality, his voice rough. "Tell the driver to get the car ready."
"Where are you going?" Michael pressed.
"The prison," Richard paused, then corrected himself, "No, Walker Architecture Studio."
He had to see Natalie.
He needed to see her immediately.
As the car rolled into the bustling city, Richard's eyes caught sight of a bookstore window as they waited at a red light.
The latest issue of Architectural Art magazine was on display, its cover featuring a minimalist design.
On it was a pure white spiral tower, soaring upward like a phoenix spreading its wings. Beneath the image, there was one word: [Rebirth.] Designer: [Natalie Summers.]
Richard felt like he had been punched in the chest.
The light turned green.
The traffic rolled forward.
And now, he and Natalie were headed down roads that would never cross again.
What Richard didn't know was that, on the other side of the city, Natalie was already standing in the design studio at Walker Architecture Studio, her fingers tracing the surface of a brand-new drawing board.
Sunlight poured in through the window.
Her new life was only beginning.