Chapter 8 - The Walk to FreedomStepping out of St. Jude’s Chapel and back into the crisp Boston sunlight felt like breaking through the surface of deep, freezing water after holding my breath for three agonizing years.
The autumn wind whipped my coat around my legs, carrying the clean, sharp scent of the harbor. A fleet of black federal transport vehicles and unmarked legal sedans lined the curb outside, their engines idling quietly.
A crowd of reporters and camera crews surged toward the steps the moment the heavy doors creaked open, shouting questions over one another like a pack of wolves.
“Mrs. Hart—is it true your husband embezzled millions?”
“Did Hayes Global Innovations recover the stolen patents?”
“Ms. Hayes, can you comment on the federal indictment?”
Marcus Vance raised his hand, stepping in front of Lily and me, effectively shielding us from the blinding camera flashes and aggressive microphone thrusts.
“No statements at this time,” Marcus announced smoothly to the press pool. “A formal press briefing will be held at the offices of Vance & Sterling at 3:00 PM. Let the record show that justice has a very long memory.”
He opened the rear door of a sleek, black town car for us.
I gently lifted Lily into the plush leather interior, buckling her seatbelt before sliding in beside her. The door closed with a heavy, satisfying thud, instantly cutting off the roar of the paparazzi and the noise of the ruined wedding.
Lily leaned her head against my shoulder, her big brown eyes reflecting the city lights outside.
“Mommy?” she whispered softly. “Are we going home now?”
May you like
I wrapped my arm around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her curls.
“Yes, sweetie,” I smiled, feeling a profound, unshakeable weight lift off my shoulders. “We’re going home. And we never have to look back.”
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