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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-THREE: THE FINAL ONE
Alex's sentencing happened on a Tuesday in November.The cooperation credit was substantial. The federal prosecutor spoke for twenty minutes about the value of what Alex had provided, the investigations it had opened, the institutional change it had catalyzed. The judge, a woman in her late sixties with the expression of someone who had been watching variations of this particular story her entire career, listened without expression and then took a recess before returning to deliver her decision.Three years. With credit for time served and good behavior, the realistic projection was eighteen months from the sentencing date.Elena sat in the gallery with Sophia on her left and Oliver on her right. Daniel Morrison was two rows back. Dr. Voss was at the end of the row. Catherine was at the defense table.When the sentence was read, Oliver reached for Elena's hand without looking at her.She held on.Alex turned from the defense table to find her in the gallery. Found her eyes across the
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-TWO: THE MESSAGE
Victoria's message arrived at hour forty-four.Not a text this time. A hand-delivered envelope, slid under the door of the safe house while they were all still at the church. Elena found it when they returned.Inside: a single photograph.Elena, Catherine, Adrian, Margaret, Daniel, and the children. Sitting in the church. Taken through a window from a distance but clear enough.And a note in Victoria's elegant handwriting:We've been patient. We've been generous. Whatever you're planning in that church, understand that we will know about it before it becomes actionable. The offer stands. The deadline does not move. — VElena set the photograph on the kitchen table. Everyone gathered around it."They're watching," Oliver said unnecessarily."They're always watching," Daniel said. "That's the point. They want you to feel observed. Contained. To make the fear do their work for them."Elena picked up her phone. Called the journalist Catherine had identified. Woke her up. Didn't apologize
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-ONE: WHAT WE BURN AND WHAT WE BUILD
The meeting Daniel arranged took place in a church.Not the church where Elena had met Thomas Morrison. A different one. Smaller. A working-class congregation in a neighborhood that Castellano Industries money had never touched. Folding chairs. Water-stained ceiling tiles. A wooden cross that someone had repainted recently, the brushstrokes still slightly uneven.Daniel met them at the door.Behind him stood a woman Elena didn't recognize. Sixty, maybe. Silver hair pulled back severely. Eyes that had seen considerable damage and decided to keep going anyway."This is Dr. Renata Voss," Daniel said. "She's a forensic psychologist. She worked with my father during his cancer remission. She's also the person who helped him understand that his revenge plan would destroy him faster than the cancer would.""Did he listen?" Catherine asked."Partially. Which is why he died in prison instead of a ditch." Dr. Voss gestured toward the chairs. "Sit, please. All of you."Elena looked around the ci
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTY: THE MORRISON
She slid the genetic analysis across the table.Watched his face as he read.Watched realization dawn. Then shock. Then something that looked like relief."I'm not his son," Alex whispered."No.""Giovanni wasn't my father.""Biologically, no."Alex stared at the paper. "Who…""Marcus Sterling. Giovanni's rival. He died when you were two.""Conveniently.""Very conveniently."Alex set the document down carefully. "Does anyone else know?""Thomas Morrison knew. That's how this came to light." Elena explained about Daniel, about the evidence, about everything.As she talked, she watched Alex's face cycle through emotions. Shock. Anger. Grief.And underneath it all, freedom."My entire life was a lie," he said finally."Yes.""Everything I believed about myself. About my legacy. About my obligations." He laughed. Broken. "All built on Giovanni's theft. His manipulation.""Yes.""I'm not an Ashworth.""That depends on how you define it."Alex met her eyes. "How do you define it?""I defin
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-NINE: THE ACCIDENT
"Did you tell anyone?" Catherine asked gently."I told my husband. David." Margaret's hands trembled. "He wanted to kill Giovanni. I begged him not to. Said we'd find another way. Get evidence. Build a case.""What happened?""David died. Six months later. Motorcycle accident. His brakes failed." Margaret turned to face them. "The police said it was maintenance neglect. But David was meticulous about his bike. He checked everything weekly.""You think Giovanni…""I know Giovanni. He found out David was collecting evidence. Had recordings. Documents. Plans to expose him." Margaret's voice broke. "So he killed him. Made it look accidental. And when I confronted him—when I showed him what I knew—he told me I could join David or I could comply.""Comply with what?""Everything. Silence. Cooperation. Helping cover up his crimes. Becoming his... assistant... in managing the parts of the business he kept off the books."Elena moved closer. "The blackmail. The leverage you said he had—""Was
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-EIGHT: The Morrison Heir
The man on the porch looked like Thomas Morrison.Same angular face. Same intense eyes. Maybe thirty-five, dressed in worn jeans and a leather jacket that had seen better years.Elena stood in the doorway, Margaret behind her, the children watching from the stairs."Mrs. Ashworth?" His voice was rougher than Thomas's. Working-class accent. "I'm Daniel Morrison. Thomas's son.""Thomas doesn't have…" Elena stopped. "How did you find this address?""My father spent thirty-eight years planning his revenge. You think he didn't have contingency plans? Backup information?" Daniel pulled out a worn envelope. "He told me if anything happened to him, anything unexpected, I should find you. Give you this.""Why me?""Because apparently you're the only person in the Ashworth orbit who might actually give a damn about the truth."Elena studied him. The family resemblance was undeniable. But Thomas had never mentioned children."Your father is in prison…""Was in prison. He died four hours ago."Th
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