Chapter 135

Chloe’s POV

The prison smelled of rust and regret.

Cold concrete. Metal bars. Echoing footsteps. It was nothing like the polished boardrooms Jack once strutted through as though he owned the world.

I wore a simple fitted dress and dark sunglasses even though the sun barely touched the interior visiting area. Not because I needed to hide.

Because I wanted to look untouchable.

The officer escorted me to the visitor section. A thick glass partition separated inmates from visitors. A phone rested on each side.

When they brought him in, I almost didn’t recognize him.

Jack looked thinner. The arrogance in his posture had dulled, replaced by something harsher. His hair was shorter. His jaw shadowed with uneven stubble. The prison uniform hung stiffly on his frame.

Orange suited him.

He saw me and froze.

Then his lips curved slowly.

“Chloe,” he muttered as he picked up the phone on his side.

I lifted mine.