The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 192

Coban’s POV

Visitation Room B.

Quieter.

More private.

Most inmates didn’t get access to the private rooms, because most inmates didn’t have fathers powerful enough to demand them…

Lucky me.

The guard unlocked the door and jerked his head toward the inside.

I stepped in without a word.

And there he was.

My father.

He sat on the other side of the thick plastic partition, arms folded tightly across his chest like stone pillars, his expression something cold and unimpressed.

His black hair was slicked back perfectly as always, not a strand daring to fall out of place. Even at his age he refused to let himself look weak. His tan skin had begun to wrinkle only slightly around the edges, the years of stress and crime finally leaving their marks on him.

But the man still carried the same dangerous presence he always had.

Today his suit was navy blue.

Tailored.

Expensive.

His knuckles were decorated with the familiar gold rings I’d watched smash into countless faces growing up – including my own.

And this week, he had decided to show off a new watch.

A heavy thing sitting smugly on his wrist.

There was no greeting from him.

No warmth.

Just his eyes tracking me as I approached the chair across from him.

I sat down slowly.

“Dad.” I gave him a short nod.

He grunted in response.

That was as close to affection as we were getting today…

For a few seconds neither of us spoke, before he leaned forward slightly.

“I’ve already sorted your little problem with the suits.” His tone was bored.

Like threatening federal officials was just another item on his daily to-do list.

“Is that so?” I asked, leaning back.

“Easy enough to find dirt on both of them,” he said calmly. “Turns out they both enjoy doing things their wives wouldn’t appreciate…”

Of course they did.

My father always found the rot inside people.

“I made sure they understood something very clearly,” he continued. “They either play nice with you in here… or their families get to learn all about their extracurricular activities.”

A small arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

To him, it was effortless.

Problems solved.

People controlled.

That was how he lived his life.

But of course…

Nothing he did came free.

“Now,” he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms again, “I hope you’ve been playing a good game in here… because I need you out… need you back in the business…”

Rich from him, when he had helped put me in here to begin with…

“Yeah… well… about that…” His expression changed instantly hearing my tone.

A flash of rage flickered behind his eyes.

“Coban,” he snapped, leaning forward aggressively. “How fucking hard is it for you to behave yourself for the duration of this foolish little project?” His voice rose.” What the fuck have you done this time?!”

I flicked my hand toward the plastic partition.

“If you’d stop fucking spitting all over the plastic then I’d be able to tell you!” I snapped, watching my father’s jaw tick.

For a moment I thought he might smash the barrier himself.

But instead he leaned back again, breathing slowly through his nose.

Clearly he wasn’t in the mood for my bullshit today.

“I had a shit week,” I said bluntly. “With my girl.”

I paused, but he said nothing, only assessed me.

“I’m worried she might leave the project now.” I admitted, “And I can’t let that happen – she’s mine.” I leaned forward slightly, zero hesitation.

Just the truth.

His eyes narrowed, processing.

“Why the hell would she want to miss out on the payout at the end of this project by leaving early?” His voice turned sharp. “Is what you did to her that fucking bad?

“Bad to her?” I admitted. “Yeah… but bad to you? No… I’ve done far worse in this lifetime, but still.”

That made him pinch the bridge of his nose. “Jesus fucking Christ, Coban… I can’t just keep digging you out of your dumb shit.”

His voice dropped lower….

“I have businesses to run, meetings to attend.”

I almost laughed at him.

None of his businesses actually required him physically being there.

He had dozens of men running things for him across half the world.

“Well then rest assured, son,” he said slowly. “If that little girl ever dares to fuck either of us over…”

His voice ran colder.

“Death would be too kind.” He stated, as my throat tightened at the warning.

“I’d have her gagged and bound,” he continued calmly, “and sold to some gang abroad for their pleasure.”

The image exploded in my head.

Margot.

Terrified.

Helpless.

Something inside me snapped…

“Fuck you!” My fist slammed into the thick plastic barrier between us making it shake.

The impact echoed through the room.

But my father?

He simply leaned back in his chair.

Smiling.

Like he’d expected that reaction.

“You’ve been warned.” His voice was almost amused. “But if she’s what you want…”

He stood slowly.

“I’ll make sure she can’t leave this project until it’s done, but you best keep her in line Coban…”

My chest rose and fell rapidly.

Rage still burning through my veins.

“If you need anything else.” he added casually, adjusting his suit jacket, “you’ve got the phone.”

He turned toward the door.

“You’ll be free soon enough, son.”

The last word came out like an insult.

Then he walked away.

Just like that.

Leaving me alone in the room.

My breathing still heavy.

One thought circling my mind like a vulture….

Had I just protected Margot…

Or had I just chained her to the devil himself?