The autumn wind outside the dance studio felt like a physical blow against Claire’s burning cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her chest.

Claire sat in the back row of the gallery, wearing a sharp navy blue pantsuit, her posture immaculate. Beside her sat Brooke, Elena, and Maya—solidarity incarnate. They had come not out of malice or a desire for revenge, but to watch the final period placed at the end of a very long, exhausting sentence.

At the defense table sat Jason. He looked unrecognizable. His hair was completely gray, his shoulders permanently hunched, and his tailored suits replaced by an orange inmate jumpsuit, his wrists shackled to a metal chain around his waist. He looked older, smaller, and utterly defeated.

The federal judge, a stern-looking woman with wire-rimmed glasses, adjusted her papers and looked down from her elevated mahogany bench.

“Mr. Miller,” the judge’s voice echoed through the silent courtroom. “You have been found guilty on all counts of wire fraud, tax evasion, and corporate embezzlement. You abused your professional position, violated the trust of your corporate partners, and systematically defrauded both your business associates and your former spouse.”

Jason swallowed hard, staring down at the polished wood of the defense table, unable to look up.

“In light of the severity of your financial crimes and the deliberate, calculated nature of your deception, this court sentences you to seven years in federal penitentiary, with no possibility of parole for the first four years.”

The gavel came down with a sharp, echoing crack.

Bang.

The sound felt like a heavy steel door slamming shut on a chapter that had haunted Claire for over a year.

As federal marshals stood up, uncuffed Jason from his chair, and led him away toward the back holding cells, Jason turned his head slightly. His red-rimmed eyes swept over the gallery, landing for a fraction of a second on Claire.