Chapter 7 - The Final Audit
One Year Later
The sun was setting over the Amalfi Coast, casting a brilliant golden glow over the water. I sat on the balcony of our villa, sipping a glass of local wine, my laptop resting casually on the table nearby.
A lot can change in a year.
Brittany’s trial had been a media spectacle. When the federal prosecutors laid out the evidence—the massive gambling debts, the forged signatures on Jamal’s practice, and the recorded conspiracy to commit corporate espionage—her defense completely crumbled. She was sentenced to eight years in federal prison.
The fallout destroyed my parents' social standing. Without Jamal’s money to prop up their lifestyle, and crushed by Brittany’s exorbitant legal fees, they were forced to sell their home and move into a small condo in a different state, avoiding the shame of their former country club friends. We hadn't spoken since the night of the wedding. I felt lighter without them.
Jamal had divorced Brittany while she was awaiting trial. He had managed to save his practice, aided in part by Vanguard Financial, who had quietly stepped in to reorganize his debt as a "thank you" for his crucial cooperation. We still exchanged emails occasionally. He was dating a lovely pediatric nurse and seemed genuinely happy.
As for me? I had been promoted to Chief Information Security Officer at Vanguard. The board had been so impressed with my handling of the zero-day honeypot that they gave me my own department and a corner office with a view of the city.
The sliding glass door of the balcony opened, and David walked out, fresh from the shower, wearing linen pants and a white shirt unbuttoned at the top. He handed me a plate of fresh bruschetta and kissed the top of my head.
“You aren't working on our honeymoon, are you, Mrs. Thorne?” he teased, glancing at the closed laptop. Because of his deployments and the trial, we had delayed our honeymoon for a year.
“Just checking the perimeter,” I smiled, taking a piece of the bruschetta.
David sat down next to me, kicking his feet up on the railing. The sunset reflected in his eyes, peaceful and calm.
“I got a call from command today,” he said casually. “They’re officially taking me off active field deployments. They want me at the Pentagon. Strategic planning and threat assessment.”
I turned to him, my heart leaping. “Really? No more combat deployments?”
“No more,” he confirmed, taking my hand and lacing his fingers through mine. “I’m coming home every night. Turns out, I prefer being a husband to being a ghost.”
I rested my head on his shoulder, watching the boats drift across the sparkling Italian sea.
My life had started out quiet, overshadowed, and overlooked. I had been the girl who paid the bills and apologized for existing. But as the ocean breeze washed over us, I realized that girl was gone.
May you like
I was Maddie Thorne. I protected the invisible systems of the world, I had a husband who would go to war for me, and for the first time in my life, the future was entirely my own to write.
And my data was secure.
