Chapter 7 - The Morning After
By dawn, the news had consumed the global financial markets.
Headlines from Tokyo to London blared the shocking story: Sterling Empire Crumbles: Former CFO Exposes Massive Cover-Up at Daughter's Wedding. Stock in Sterling Enterprises plummeted eighty-seven percent in pre-market trading, wiping out nearly two billion dollars of market capitalization before the opening bell even rang.
I sat in my penthouse office on the seventy-fourth floor of the Costello Tower, watching the sunrise paint the Manhattan skyline in shades of amber and rose. On the glass table in front of me sat two cups of hot black coffee, a fresh pastry basket, and a single black leather portfolio.
The elevator chimed softly. Genevieve walked into the room.
She had changed out of the McQueen gown into an elegant tailored charcoal pantsuit and a cream silk blouse. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek, professional bun. The vintage Cartier necklace had been returned to its velvet vault, but the regal aura that surrounded her was entirely her own.
"You didn't sleep," she said, taking the seat across from me and accepting the porcelain coffee cup with a faint, warm smile.
"Sleep is for people who aren't restructuring an eighty-billion-dollar maritime logistics conglomerate," I replied, sliding the leather portfolio toward her.
Genevieve opened it slowly. Inside was a comprehensive legal charter transferring forty-nine percent of the newly formed Costello-Croft Maritime Alliance into her name, along with an official court notice from the Department of Justice formally expunging her conviction and ordering the return of all seized personal assets.
She ran her fingertips across the embossed gold seal, her breath catching slightly. "Expunged with prejudice... full exoneration."
"The Attorney General signed it at four this morning," I told her, leaning forward and resting my forearms against the desk. "The evidence Arthur left behind was so airtight they had no choice. You aren't just cleared, Genevieve. You are officially recognized as a victim of a coordinated criminal conspiracy."
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A single tear slipped down her cheek, but she wiped it away with a steady hand. "For three years, Dominic... every single night in that cold bunk, I told myself that truth was an illusion. That money always wins."
"Money usually wins," I said softly, looking directly into her eyes. "Unless someone with equal wealth decides to fight for what’s right."
