Chapter 5
The trial was brutal.
Celeste's lawyer attacked me relentlessly. Called me a gold-digger. A liar. A manipulative young woman who'd stolen her stepmother's company.
He brought up my age. My inexperience. My grief. He claimed I'd fabricated the evidence. Claimed Adrian had put me up to it.
I didn't break. I told the truth. And the evidence backed me up.
Roland testified. Victor testified—he'd cut a deal. The forensic accountants testified. The board members testified.
Celeste testified. She lied. She got caught. She contradicted herself. The jury watched her unravel.
The verdict came after two days of deliberation.
Guilty. On all counts. Conspiracy. Fraud. Embezzlement. Money laundering.
Celeste was sentenced to twelve years. Roland got eight. Victor got fifteen—his charges were worse, and the women who'd come forward testified against him.
The judge called them "predators who used wealth and power to exploit and destroy."
After the sentencing, I walked out of the courthouse. Adrian was beside me. Reporters shouted questions. I didn't answer.
We got in the car. He took my hand.
"It's over," he said.
I looked at him. "It's over."
And I cried. Not from sadness. From relief. From exhaustion. From the weight of two years of fear and loneliness and grief, finally lifting.
He held me while I cried. And when I was done, he handed me a tissue and said, "You want to get dinner? I know a place that doesn't serve champagne or lock the doors."
I laughed. "Yes. Please."
May you like
We went to a small Italian place. No cameras. No investors. No drama. Just pasta and wine and each other.
And for the first time in a long time, I slept through the night.
