Chapter 8

The afternoon sun beat down on the federal courthouse steps as the gavel finally came down on Julian Vance’s criminal indictment. The federal judge didn’t even blink when sentencing Julian to seven consecutive years in a medium-security correctional facility, followed by five years of strict probation and mandatory restitution payments he would never be able to afford.
I watched from the gallery, sitting beside Darcy in a sharp charcoal suit that practically radiated quiet, unstoppable power.
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When the bailiffs grabbed Julian by his orange jumpsuit shoulders to drag him back down to the holding cells, he twisted his head around, his eyes locking onto mine with a desperate, pathetic plea. His lips moved silently behind the glass partition, begging for just one shred of mercy, one nod of recognition from the woman he had once locked in a freezing kitchen.
I didn't blink. I didn't smile. I simply pulled out my gold-plated fountain pen and began signing a completely unrelated corporate merger document, dismissing him entirely from my reality like a speck of dust on a freshly polished table.