The visitor’s room in the detention facility was cold, lit by flickering fluorescent tubes that hummed with a low tone. Ada sat behind the thick glass panel, her hands folded neatly on the wooden ledge. She wore a tailored charcoal suit, simple pearl earrings, and an air of complete detachment.
When the metal door unlocked, two women in drab orange uniforms were led inside.
Rose looked unrecognizable. The vanity that had once defined her posture had vanished completely. Her hair was matty and unwashed, her skin sallow, and her eyes wide with desperate panic. Behind her walked their mother, stooped, frail, and weeping into her rough sleeves.
When Rose caught sight of Ada sitting on the other side of the partition, she rushed forward, slamming her hands against the glass.
“Ada! Ada, please!” Rose sobbed, her voice muffled through the small metal grate. “You have to help us! It was all a mistake! The lawyers say we are looking at seven years minimum if we go to trial! We don’t belong here, Ada! Look at me! Look at what this place is doing to me!”
Their mother fell into the chair beside Rose, her trembling hands reaching out toward the glass as if she could pull Ada’s mercy through the cold barrier. “My daughter… my sweet Ada… forgive us. Mothers make mistakes. Sisters make mistakes. We are blood! You cannot leave your own blood to rot in a dark cell while you live like a queen!”
Ada sat motionless, her expression as calm as a frozen lake. She did not flinch when Rose pounded on the glass, nor did she soften when her mother wiped tears onto her sleeve.
“Blood did not buy that car, Rose,” Ada said, her voice clear and precise through the intercom. “My sweat bought it. My sleepless nights bought it. My sacrifices bought it. And when I was left on the ground with nothing, blood did not offer me a hand to stand up.”
“I was young! I was stupid!” Rose screamed, tears smearing across her hollow cheeks. “I was jealous of you! You were always the smart one, the favorite of father! I just wanted to feel important for once in my life! Please, Ada, you have millions now! A small fine, a good lawyer, and we can walk free today! Father told us you own a clinic!”
“Father sold his last piece of earth to undo the damage you caused,” Ada replied coldly. “He lived in poverty for six years while you drove through town pretending to be royalty. Where was your guilt when he was burning dry brush for heat? Where was your mercy when mother told me I deserved to be robbed?”
Their mother wrung her hands, her voice cracking with desperation. “Ada, I am your mother! God will judge you if you abandon the woman who gave you life!”
