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HM Prison Wandsworth.
This was the last place on earth I ever imagined myself going to, yet here I was, waiting for the security guards to bring my son to me.
The stark, sterile environment of the visitor's room felt oppressive, with its cold, white walls and harsh fluorescent lighting. The air was thick with the murmur of subdued conversations and the occasional clink of keys.
I clenched my fists, the tension in my body mirroring the storm in my mind, as I watched the guards escort my son into the room. They flanked him closely, their expressions unreadable and eyes cold.
Ashton walked with a determined stride, each step resonating with an unmistakable fury. There was no defeat or sadness in his demeanour—only a seething anger.
Dressed in a grey uniform—a simple T-shirt and trousers—and scuffed black trainers, his movements were purposeful and deliberate. As Ashton sat down across from me, his brown eyes met mine with a fiery intensity, bloodshot and filled with raw rage. They burned with a severe hunger for revenge, the kind that seemed to fuel his very being. His dark brown hair was dishevelled, streaked with more grey hairs than I remembered, giving him a rugged, almost wild appearance.
The stubble on his jaw had grown into an unkempt beard, desperately in need of grooming and trimming. His skin, once a healthy, sun-kissed tan, was now pallid with a hint of a bluish hue, as if the very life had been drained from him.
Despite the transformation, there was a fierce, almost primal energy about him. My son looked like a man on the edge, driven by a relentless anger that refused to be quelled.
"Get me out of here."- Ashton seethed into the phone, his voice strained with frustration and anger. His nostrils flared with each word, betraying the simmering intensity of his emotions.
"Out of here? Are you even using your fucking brain? Ares Romano made sure you are going nowhere! Do you have any idea the number of charges against you?"- I retorted, struggling to maintain a calm tone because of the tempest raging within me.
I had exhausted every avenue to secure Ashton's, Alexa's and my grandchildren's release, even attempting bribery, but all efforts proved futile. They were condemned to endure this hell for years.
"So I'm supposed to rot here while the bitch is living it up with him in Italy?"- Ashton's voice crackled with resentment, his grip on the phone tightening, knuckles turning white.
I had never cared about that little bitch. I had never acknowledged her as my grandchild. For years, she had meant nothing to me, and that would not change now. I had no interest in what happened to her, who she associated with, or whom she was involved with.
As long as she stayed out of my life, that was all that mattered.
