Chapter 17 - A Familiar Face in the Crowd
Toward the middle of the evening, as I stood near the balcony doors overlooking the glittering city lights, a man stepped out of the shadows of the pillar.
He wasn't part of our financial circle. He was a middle-aged investigative journalist named Thomas Vance (no relation to Flynn, though the irony was amusing), who had spent months covering the systemic corruption within Chicago’s corporate elite.
"Stunning party, Mrs. Vance," Thomas said, raising his champagne flute in a polite toast.
"Thank you, Thomas. It’s certainly an upgrade from the courtroom galleries," I replied smoothly.
"I wanted to let you know before it hits the morning papers," he continued, lowering his voice slightly. "Selina Cole was transferred maximum-security isolation unit at Dwight Correctional today after attempting to instigate a physical brawl in the prison cafeteria. Her trial appeal was officially denied by the state supreme court. She’s looking at the full eighteen years without parole."
I felt a quiet wave of finality wash over me. No anger. No triumph. Just the heavy, peaceful silence of a chapter finally closed.
"Thank you for the update, Thomas," I said quietly. "Though honestly, I haven't thought about Selina in months."
"That’s the healthiest place she could possibly be," Thomas smiled. "Out of your mind, and out of your life."
May you like
He excused himself, blending back into the sea of black-tie suits and glittering diamonds.
I walked out onto the private stone balcony, leaning against the wrought-iron railing as the cool autumn breeze whipped my hair across my face. The city stretched out before me in a dazzling grid of neon and light—endless, beautiful, and full of infinite possibility.
