I bought a prison in the United States.

Montes got up from the ground, rubbed his wrists which were throbbing from the handcuffs, and kicked the iron door hard.

"Let me out! Ringo Chen! You bastard! Let me out!"

His voice echoed in the cramped solitary confinement cell, but received no response.

Montes kicked the iron gate a few more times until his feet hurt so much he couldn't lift them anymore, then he leaned against the wall, panting.

He looked around and a chill ran down his spine.

The solitary confinement cell was worse than he had imagined.

It was only about two square meters in size, with no windows, and only a 15-watt light bulb overhead, emitting a dim yellow light.

To prevent prisoners from breaking the light bulbs and committing suicide, the light bulbs were covered with a layer of wire mesh.

The floor was cold cement; there was no bed or table.

There was only a plastic bucket in the corner used to collect excrement, and it even contained gifts left by the previous resident.

The air was filled with a pungent smell of urine and mold, making people nauseous.

"Oh shit!"

Montes spat.

"This godforsaken place is worse than a doghouse!"

He walked to the toilet, lifted the lid, and a stronger stench hit him.

Montes quickly covered his nose and took a few steps back.

Compared to Lawton's solitary confinement, this place was nothing short of hell.

"Lingo Chen, you just wait!"

Montes said through gritted teeth.

"Once I get out of here, I'm going to sue you and ruin your reputation!"

He paced back and forth in the solitary confinement cell, his mind racing with various ways to get revenge on Ringo.

But as he was thinking, his stomach suddenly started growling.

It's 5 p.m. now. He only ate a potato and a slice of bread for lunch.

I wasn't full to begin with, and then I fought with Kofi, which used up a lot of my energy. Now I'm starving.

"Damn it, when is dinner served?"

Montes muttered to himself as he walked to the iron gate and peered out through the small window in it.

The corridor was empty, with only a dim light on, and not a single person in sight.

"Hey! Anyone home? Dinner's ready!"

Montes shouted.

Still no one responded.

Montes shouted a few more times until his voice was hoarse, then slumped to the ground in despair.

In the cell next to his, Omar sat on the cold concrete floor, staring blankly at the wall.

Omar's cell was slightly better than Montes'; at least the toilet was clean.

But there was no bed, no window, only a dim light bulb.

Omar is an Egyptian-American who grew up in Los Angeles.

Through his own efforts, he was admitted to the Department of Electrical Engineering at the University of California, Berkeley. After graduation, he joined AT&T and became a technical supervisor.

He had a beautiful wife and two lovely children, and his life was originally very happy.

Until three years ago, his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer.

To pay for his wife's medical treatment, he spent all his savings and incurred a large debt.

With no other options, he used his skills to participate in a telecommunications fraud case, swindling half a million dollars.

He thought he had done something foolproof, but he didn't expect to be caught by the police so quickly.

The court sentenced him to four years in prison.

His wife died the year after he went to prison because they couldn't afford to continue his treatment.

His two children were sent to an orphanage.

Whenever he thinks about these things, Omar feels as if his heart is being cut by a knife.

He worked so hard so that he could get out of prison sooner and take his child out of the orphanage.

So when Ling Ge offered him a chance to participate in the development of a surveillance system and promised him a reduced sentence, he was actually tempted.

However, he could not accept Ringo's terms.

Zero points.

This means that all the profits from the technology he painstakingly developed will go to Ling Ge, while he will only receive a sentence reduction certificate that he doesn't know if it will be honored.

He had seen far too many things like this.

In prison, the warden's promises are like farts.

They might promise you a reduced sentence today, but they could renege on that promise tomorrow.

He could not place his hopes on Ringo's conscience.

Therefore, he chose to rebel.

But now, he is locked in this cold, solitary confinement cell.

Waves of hunger washed over him, making him dizzy and lightheaded.

He touched his stomach, shook his head with a wry smile.

He remembered his wife's roast chicken and the children's favorite chocolate cake.

Things that were once readily available are now unattainable luxuries.

"Maybe I really was wrong."

Omar muttered to himself.

"There's no point in reasoning here."

In the cell next to Omar's, Maurice was leaning against the wall, resting with his eyes closed.

Morris is forty-eight years old, making him the oldest of the three prisoners.

He was formerly a senior hardware engineer at IBM, where he participated in the development of IBM personal computers.

His annual salary once exceeded $200,000, and he owned a luxury apartment in New York and a Porsche sports car.

His life should have been bright, until he developed a gambling addiction.

To pay off his gambling debts, he used his position to steal internal information from IBM and engage in insider trading, illegally profiting more than one million US dollars.

After his crimes were exposed, he was sentenced to five years in prison.

His wife divorced him, took all his property, and his children cut off all ties with him.

Overnight, he went from a respected engineer to a disgraced criminal.

In prison, Maurice kept a low profile.

He did not participate in any gang activities, nor did he associate with other prisoners.

Besides working, I read books every day.

He just wanted to serve his sentence peacefully and then find a place where no one knew him to spend the rest of his life.

Lin Ge asked him to participate in the development of the monitoring system, and he was initially inclined to agree.

The commutation certificate is very important to him; he is already 48 years old and can't afford to waste any more time.

However, Montes and Omar both opposed it, so he had no choice but to join them in opposing it.

He didn't want to be isolated by the other prisoners, and he didn't want to be labeled a traitor.

In prison, traitors suffer a terrible fate.

Now locked in solitary confinement, hunger was also tormenting him.

He was already in poor health, suffering from diabetes and high blood pressure.

If he doesn't get enough food and medicine for a long time, his body is likely to develop problems.

Morris opened his eyes, looking at the dim light bulb above him with a complicated expression.

He recalled his days at IBM.

Back then, he worked in a bright office every day, drinking the best coffee and eating the most exquisite lunches.

Now, they can't even afford a piece of bread.

"How ironic."

Morris sighed.

"I've designed countless advanced hardware systems in my life, but I never imagined that I would end up designing a system to monitor myself in prison."