Chapter 20: Fractured Trust

Steve Jordan sat stiffly at the table, wrists bound behind him in cuffs—a rigid silhouette of a man clinging to hope. His gaze tracked Captain Torres as he ushered in a ragged, dazed Jaime, a shadow of the wife he’d lost months ago, her absence a chasm he couldn’t bridge.

Jaime eased into the chair across from him, her husband now a near-stranger, his familiar face a distant echo beneath the room’s harsh light. She dodged his eyes, her own a blank mask, unable to meet the man she’d once adored—not after Reggie’s mark had stained her soul. Her wedding band and engagement ring glinted faintly on her finger, tarnished relics of a fidelity she’d been forced to forsake.

“How you holding up?” Steve asked, his voice soft, clueless to the abyss between them.

“F-fine,” she stuttered, fumbling for words, her tongue a traitor snared in dread. The air thickened with unease, a heavy shroud woven from her forced betrayal with her cellmate—a hung, young Black stud Steve knew nothing of—lurking like a phantom in the silence.

“I’m glad to see you,” he said, a flicker of warmth breaking through.

“Me too,” she replied, the words hollow, a mechanical echo.

“My court date’s tomorrow. Any word on yours?” he ventured, grasping for a lifeline.

Jaime’s eyes flared, shock jolting her like a live wire. “Wait, you have a court date tomorrow? How’s that possible?” Her guarded stiffness melted, replaced by a sharp edge of disbelief, a crack in the facade she’d built.

“I don’t know. The Captain just told me today. Hopefully, we’ll be out of this mess soon. Don’t worry, Jaime—no matter what, you’re getting out of here,” he assured, his optimism a fragile thread.

“I confessed to the drugs and I’m pleading guilty. I’ll take full responsibility. The Captain promised my sentence will be lighter and they won’t charge you,” he added, his voice steady with resolve.

Steve’s words hit Jaime like a fist to the chest, a blunt force that stole her breath. He’d buckled, owned up to a lie under pressure—a collapse that pierced her with disappointment, even though she had done the same. She couldn’t face him, her gaze dropping to the table, heavy with the sting of his surrender. “You didn’t have to confess,” she said, voice thick with betrayal. She’d borne forced sex with a young Black man, surrendered her fidelity to shield Steve—and it was all for nothing, a sacrifice rendered moot by his weakness.

“It’s too late, Steve. I signed a confession too,” she admitted, the truth a bitter shard lodging in her throat.

“What? Why would you do that?” he asked, confusion creasing his brow, his trust still blind.

Jaime faltered, the truth about Reggie clawing at her throat—a beast she couldn’t unleash. She couldn’t say it—couldn’t admit she’d shared a tight cell and bed with a brawny Black youth, his huge cock claiming her night after night, unprotected, his solid frame pinning her to meet his raw hunger. Telling Steve would gut him, carve out his heart with a dull blade, and he’d be powerless to act—another twist in her gut, a fresh wound to her already bleeding conscience. The thought of spilling those details churned her insides like a storm-tossed sea, a tempest of shame and secrecy. Her guilt gnawed deeper every time his trusting eyes met hers, oblivious to the filth she carried, the weight of her wedding rings a silent accusation against her skin.

For over two brutal months, Jaime had weathered Reggie’s endless assaults—a relentless siege that broke her mind and body, twisting her into viewing her cellmate as some perverse lover. Day by day, his manipulation sank in, a slow poison binding her to him—a fog she couldn’t pierce, a warped lens through which she now saw her world.