Chapter 17
Eleanor turned on Victor before sentencing.
Not during trial.
Too late for courage.
Just in time for strategy.
Her attorney approached prosecutors with a statement.
Victor led everything.
Victor forged signatures.
Victor manipulated her.
Victor used her contacts.
When Dana Cho told us, my father laughed once.
Cold.
“Predictable.”
I should have felt satisfied.
Instead, I felt tired.
Families like theirs did not break from guilt.
They broke from self-preservation.
Victor learned of Eleanor’s offer and erupted in court.
“She told me how to do it!” he shouted before the jury entered. “She said Olivia was nothing. She said no one would check household accounts. She said Hartwell people were too high up to notice small leaks.”
The judge ordered him quiet.
His lawyer put a hand on his arm.
Victor shoved it away.
Russell leaned toward me.
“That may be useful.”
“It’s also pathetic.”
“Useful things often are.”
The jury returned after two days.
Guilty.
Wire fraud.
Conspiracy.
Document forgery.
Misappropriation.
Obstruction.
Victor stared forward as each count landed.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
Preston Myles rubbed his face.
Kendra, already cooperating, cried silently in the back.
I felt nothing at first.
Then my cheek began to burn again.
A memory, not pain.
My body reminding me where this ended and began.
Outside court, reporters shouted.
“Olivia, do you feel vindicated?”
“Did your experiment go too far?”
“Do you regret hiding your identity?”
I stopped.
Miriam whispered, “You don’t have to answer.”
But I wanted to.
Not for them.
For myself.
I turned to the cameras.
“I regret believing I had to become powerless to learn who deserved my trust,” I said. “I regret staying after cruelty began. I do not regret telling the truth.”
The questions exploded.
I walked away.
That evening, my father poured two cups of tea instead of whiskey.
My mother’s old habit.
He handed one to me.
“To truth,” he said.
May you like
I lifted mine.
“To using it sooner.”
