Dean walked the familiar white hallway to Skyler's office, the antiseptic scent stinging his nose. This time, his mother's heels clicked beside him sharp, relentless, like a metronome counting down to chaos.
She reached for the therapy room door. Skyler blocked it, arms crossed. "No," Skyler said, firm.
"I'm his mother," she snapped. "I have every right "
"He'd be uncomfortable," Skyler cut in, voice steel. "This is his space."
"I'll change therapists," his mother hissed.
"You can't," Skyler said. "I'm court appointed. Expensive, but they knew you could afford it."
His mother's face reddened. She stomped, muttering about "disrespect" and "control." Skyler didn't budge. Finally, she stormed off, heels echoing.
Skyler watched her go. That voice shrill, commanding—triggered something in her memory. Somewhere before... But where? She shook it off.
Dean sank into the chair, exhaling. Relief but agitation churned. Six years ago, his mother had torn his life apart. Now she was back, claws out.
Skyler sat across, her professional mask locked in. Her eyes pierced him, sharp and knowing. Dean could stay calm in storms. Paparazzi. Prison. But today? Her presence had cracked him. Skyler saw it the broken side he hid.
"Dean," she said softly. "How about that thirty minutes of truth?"
He shifted, reluctant. No dodging now. "Okay," he said, voice low.
Six years ago. Dean couldn't stand the heartbreak anymore. Skyler's rejection in Santa Monica had gutted him. He'd booked a flight to London needed distance, his father, anything but the memories. A few weeks to clear his head.
Law enforcement met him at Heathrow. Cameras everywhere. "Colin Goodwin's son arrested embezzlement!" Headlines screamed. His face plastered on every screen.
He hadn't expected that.
Three days in a cell. No one called. His accounts frozen. No lawyer. He tried his father: "Your actions have consequences." His mother? Silent.
His family was small just him, Mom, Dad, Rina and fractured. He'd spent most of his life in the States and France, barely knew them. No friends here to call.
A public defender, Mike, took his case. His mother hit the podcasts: "My son needs to learn consequences." The court was merciless. The jury saw an ungrateful brat with too much money and no morals.
Mike noticed a glitch: the money trail UK, Italy, while Dean was arriving from the US. The timing didn't line up. But the transactions used Dean's credentials, his access codes. Someone had to have given them up.
"Who had access?" Mike asked.
"My mother. My father. Tim Dad's lawyer and best friend." Dean paused. "The investigation cleared them. Family wouldn't frame family, right?"
Mike didn't answer. They never pursued it.
Court date hit. Three years prison. £12 million fine.
Dean's jaw tightened, the memory sharp as glass. "My father didn't visit. Didn't call. When I finally reached him, he said..." His voice cracked. "'Your actions have consequences.' Like I was guilty. Like he wanted me to be."
Skyler frowned. "Why would he want that?"
Dean looked away. "I don't know. But something changed between us before the arrest. He looked at me different. Like I was a stranger."
Prison was hell. Dean learned the hierarchy fast. Deren ran things for the main crew, and he hated Dean the rich kid, the easy target. Humiliation. Beatings. Stolen food.
Six months in, Nate arrived. A lifer with a notebook, scribbling rhymes. "I'm gonna be a rapper when I'm out," Nate said, grinning. He was good. Dean smiled, remembering those talks in the dark—hope in a cell.
But the smile faded. "Nate's still in there." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "In a way. Just... not awake."
Skyler's breath caught. She understood. "Dean "
He shook his head. Not yet. The guilt was too raw.
Back in the room, Skyler held his gaze. "Did you do it?"
Dean met her eyes. The silence stretched long, heavy, filled with things he couldn't say. Finally, he looked away. "They said I did."
Skyler noticed the deflection. He hadn't answered. But pushing now would shatter him.
"The jury believed it," he added, voice hollow. "That's all that mattered."
Skyler leaned back, processing. Innocent or guilty, he'd been destroyed either way. And his own family had let it happen.