Chapter 9 - The Restitution in Crisp Hundred-Dollar Bills
Six months later, Courtroom 4B of the United States District Court for the Northern District of Illinois delivered the final sentencing decree.
Harrison Sterling sat at the defense table in a bright orange federal detention jumpsuit, his hair shaved, his former arrogance completely crushed by months in solitary holding.
Chief Judge Evelyn Sterling (no relation) brought her heavy wooden gavel down with a resounding crack that shook the courtroom.
“Harrison Sterling is hereby sentenced to twelve years at the United States Penitentiary, Marion, followed by mandatory financial restitution of $2,840,000 to the affected workers and the Department of Revenue.”
Justice was complete, absolute, and unshakeable.
As we walked down the stone steps of the courthouse into the crisp autumn sunshine, Vincent Kane was waiting beside his armored Maybach.
He looked down at me, pulling a small silver box from his coat.
“For you, Rory,” Kane smiled, kneeling down.
I opened the box. Inside was a delicate gold bracelet adorned with five sparkling amethyst purple stars.
“For the little girl who had the courage to walk through the curtain,” Kane whispered, fastening it gently around my wrist.
May you like
I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Thank you, Uncle Vincent.”
Kane held me close, resting a protective hand over my back, smiling with the deep, quiet pride of a guardian who had found his purpose.
