Chapter 17
The verdict came on a Friday afternoon.
Guilty.
Eleanor Vance.
Guilty on fraud, conspiracy, witness intimidation, obstruction, and involvement in my father’s poisoning.
Guilty.
Victor Sloan.
Guilty on racketeering, money laundering, arson, kidnapping, and conspiracy.
Guilty.
Julian Vance.
Fraud.
Conspiracy.
Obstruction.
Attempted coercion.
Serena received a lesser sentence for cooperation.
I felt no joy.
Only a deep, shaking release.
Eleanor stood rigid as the verdicts were read.
Julian cried.
Victor cursed.
I held Marcus’s hand.
When court dismissed, Julian turned.
“Khloe.”
I stopped, though Marcus squeezed my hand in warning.
Julian stepped closer, guarded by deputies.
“I’m sorry.”
The words floated between us.
Small.
Late.
Almost useless.
I looked at him.
“I know.”
His face lifted with hope.
I continued.
“But I am done carrying what you should have felt sooner.”
He nodded, crying harder.
For the first time, I did not feel responsible for his pain.
Outside, reporters crowded the steps.
I did not give a long speech.
I simply said, “My father was not paranoid. I was not unstable. Truth does not become false because powerful people mock it.”
Then I walked away.
That night, Marcus and I went to the cabin.
We lit a fire in the repaired stone fireplace.
We placed Dad’s carved boat on the mantel.
Beside it, we put Mom’s framed photo.
The house felt wounded.
May you like
But standing.
So were we.
