Chapter 6 - Rebuilding the Foundation
Eight Months Later.
The morning sun filtered brightly through the large bay windows of my new home in the suburbs of Madison. It was a beautiful, wrap-around porch colonial, far away from the cold, sterile mansion overlooking Lake Michigan. There were no servants here. No oppressive silence. Just the warm, chaotic joy of a real home.
I sat at the kitchen island, sipping a hot cup of coffee, watching Helen sit in her high chair. She was babbling happily, smashing a piece of banana onto her tray with intense focus. She had my eyes, bright and observant, and a head of soft, dark curls.
My laptop was open on the counter. The news headline on the local screen read: Simmons Estate Liquidated to Pay Defrauded Investors.
The federal trial had been swift and merciless. Once the FBI auditors verified the blue binder I had handed to Judge Hall, the entire Simmons empire collapsed like a wet paper bag. Alexander’s arrogance couldn't save him in a federal court. He had accepted a plea deal to avoid a thirty-year sentence. He was currently serving fifteen years in a federal penitentiary without the possibility of early parole.
Josephine, unable to cope with the reality of prison, had pleaded guilty to lesser charges and was serving five years in a minimum-security facility. The family name, which they had valued above human life, was now synonymous with disgrace and greed in Wisconsin.
I took another sip of my coffee and closed the laptop. I didn't need to read about them anymore. They were ghosts of a past life.
My phone buzzed on the counter. It was David Sterling, my lead attorney, who had also become a close friend and legal advisor for my new business.
“Good morning, Karina,” David’s cheerful voice came through the speaker. “I just finalized the paperwork for your father’s trust. The funds have been completely secured and transferred to the new accounts. Helen is officially set for life, and the Simmons family cannot touch a single penny.”
“Thank you, David,” I smiled, wiping a smear of banana off Helen’s cheek with a napkin. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“You did all the heavy lifting, Karina. Oh, and congratulations on the new contract with the State Prosecutor's Office. I heard they practically begged you to come back as an independent forensic consultant.”
“They made a very convincing offer,” I laughed. “I start next week. But on my own terms. Flexible hours, mostly remote. I'm not missing my daughter growing up.”
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“You're unstoppable. Have a great weekend, Karina.”
I hung up the phone and looked around my bright, sunny kitchen. I had my career back. I had my independence back. But most importantly, I had my daughter.
