The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 87

Margot’s POV

The second I stepped out of the interview room, it felt like the air shifted.

Lighter.

Less suffocating.

It wasn’t until that moment that I realised just how tense my shoulders had been the entire morning.

Like I’d been bracing myself for something terrible – a punishment, judgment, accusation.

And instead? It had just been… paperwork on a computer screen.

Carefully worded paperwork, sure, but nothing close to what I had imagined…

I let out a breath I hadn’t meant to hold as I stepped out into the wide hallway, my feet scuffing softly on the gleaming floor. For a second, I stood there blinking, trying to gather myself.

And then I saw her.

“Took you long enough!” Cara’s familiar voice rang out, light but pointed.

I turned to find her leaned up against the wall near the main double doors of the auditorium, arms crossed with the kind of dramatic pout only she could make look cute.

Her long dark braid had been redone into a neater plait since I last saw her, and her eyes were sharper now less tired, more alive.

I walked toward her quickly. “They took forever to call me through,” I defended with a half–laugh as she uncrossed her arms and immediately looped hers through mine.

“Well, it’s done now. We survived our first reports and now it’s time to reap the reward.” She beamed, eyes sparkling as she led us toward a nearby elevator alcove like she knew exactly where we were going.

My steps fell into rhythm with hers. “Where to first?” I asked, genuinely curious,

“Honestly, whatever you fancy?” Cara hummed in thought, as I thought about the options we had been given earlier,

“Maybe some food and a cocktail to start us off?” I suggest, as she grins over at me.

“We deserve this,” she said with finality, jabbing the elevator button like she was punching away the stress of the week.

As the doors dinged open and we stepped inside, I glanced at the buttons. There it was: SKY BAR in gold, capital letters. A reward we had earned and definitely needed.

I smiled and tilted my head toward the glowing button. “Let’s do it! We could maybe hit the spa next or the salon?” I muse, a flurry of butterflies erupting in my stomach as I read each floor…

Cara turned to me with a grin like I’d just offered her a ticket out of prison. “Great idea! I say salon next, get our hair and nails done? When have we ever had a free pass for anything like that!” Cara beams, as I can’t help but agree.

Our old life was nothing short of scraps.

Neither of us had never had a salon treatment or touch up appointment. We couldn’t afford it. We were more concerned about eating and survival before anything like that…

She stabbed the sky bar button, then leaned back against the mirrored wall with a sigh of satisfaction.

“So while we’re sipping on whatever fruity concoctions they’re serving up, you can fill me in on the latest episode of The Coban Saga.” She gave me a knowing look. “Because don’t think I haven’t noticed something’s been on your mind all morning. Your face says ‘emotional turmoil,‘ not ‘post–evaluation peace.”

I groaned, rubbing a hand across my forehead. “Let’s… get a table first. Please?” I laughed lightly. “I need at least one bite of real food before I start emotionally unloading.”

“Fair.” She smirked, but didn’t push me on it further – not yet.

The elevator slowed, then opened with a soft chime, and oh my God the sight that met us on the other side took my breath away.

The air shifted again. Gone was the sterile, clinical hum of the lower floors. Up here? It was like walking into another world entirely.

“Please do,” I added warmly.

Her shoulders sagged in relief as she hurried over, falling into step beside us.

We were led to a booth along the edge of the open–air terrace, the skyline of the facility’s compound stretching in the distance behind it, softened by golden afternoon light.

It was honestly kind of beautiful, if you could forget where you were for a second…

“Alright,” Cara grinned, collapsing into the booth and pulling a menu toward her. “Someone get me a cocktail before I start crying about the fact that this is the best day I’ve had in years.”

I laughed, sliding in beside Sarah and scanning the menu. “You and me both.”

“I just can’t wait to taste the food,” Sarah added, her voice quieter but hopeful,

We didn’t waste time either.

We ordered.

We drank.

Before we ordered mains and sides to fill us for a lifetime…

In that moment, we existed outside the walls of the prison, just three girls clinking cocktail glasses, eating overpriced food for free, and laughing like the world wasn’t waiting to break us again come tonight…

But still, I couldn’t stop the occasional glance toward the elevator.

Wondering if Coban was wondering about me, too.