Chapter 8 - Justice and Redemption
Three days later, the Federal courthouse downtown was packed with reporters, flashbulbs popping like lightning storms against the stone steps.
Robert Thorne stood in handcuffs, flanked by U.S. Marshals, his expensive wool coat rumpled, his face ashen and defeated. As the media cameras zoomed in on him, he looked out across the crowd and caught my eye for a fraction of a second.
I didn't flinch. I stood tall on the courthouse steps, wearing my old jacket, holding Maya’s hand in mine.
Maya was pale, still recovering in a secure recovery suite with round-the-clock federal protection, but the color was slowly returning to her cheeks. The foreign tracking device had been successfully extracted, the syndicate’s server network had been completely dismantled using the master decryption keys I pulled from Robert’s hidden office files, and the federal prosecutor’s case against my husband was airtight.
He wouldn't just be facing financial ruin; he was looking at multiple decades in a maximum-security federal penitentiary for child endangerment, treason, and corporate espionage.
As Robert was shoved into the back of the black transport van, his quiet, cold demeanor finally shattered into a pathetic, desperate plea that was instantly drowned out by the roar of the reporters.
The van doors slammed shut.
I looked down at Maya, who squeezed my hand tightly, resting her head gently against my shoulder.
“Mom?” she whispered softly.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Are we going home today?”
May you like
I looked past the flashing cameras, past the courthouse gates, and out toward the open horizon where the afternoon sun was finally breaking through the heavy grey clouds.
“No, baby,” I smiled, kissing the top of her head. “We’re going somewhere brand new.”
