Visiting room.
Madeline sat quietly at the table, her palms already damp.
Footsteps sounded outside.
The door opened, and a guard wheeled a man in.
"Visiting time is thirty minutes. No physical contact. No raised voices."
She looked up and saw her brother, whom she hadn't seen in more than half a year.
In handcuffs and a prison uniform, Grant Hartwell's rugged, handsome face now bore several more faint scars.
He was no longer the dashing young heir in a crisp white shirt. Three years behind bars had long since worn away the refined, scholarly air about him.
Madeline's eyes reddened. She clenched her fists and said his name softly.
"Grant."
He smiled, walked over, and sat across from her. He started to raise a hand, hesitated, then tucked his swollen hands and cuffs under the tabl
