Chapter 8 - A New Dawn
Six Months Later
The ocean breeze whipped through my hair as I stood on the balcony of my new office in downtown Boston. The view of the harbor was spectacular, the water glittering like diamonds under the midday sun.
It had been a whirlwind six months.
Grant and Richard Whitmore had taken plea deals. The evidence against them was so overwhelmingly damning that a trial would have been a slaughter. Richard was serving life without parole for the murders of my parents. Grant was sentenced to thirty-five years in federal prison for his massive financial crimes and his complicity in covering up the stolen patents. Vanessa, desperate to save herself, had turned state's evidence, but she still got five years in a minimum-security facility for her part in the fraud.
The Whitmore empire was dissolved. Through a massive federal restitution act, the stolen assets, the patents, and the billions of dollars were rightfully returned to the Rowan family.
I didn't take the Beacon Hill house in the divorce. I sold it and used the money to start a foundation for victims of medical neglect and domestic abuse.
I turned back toward the office as the glass doors opened.
Ethan walked in, wearing his white doctor's coat over a suit. He had refused to give up medicine. It was his passion, his calling. But he had agreed to serve on the board of our newly resurrected company, Rowan Technologies.
"Ready for the press conference, Madam CEO?" Ethan smiled, tossing a folder onto my mahogany desk.
"I think so," I smiled back, walking over to him.
I looked at the framed photograph sitting on my desk. It was an old, faded picture of our parents holding a baby me, with a young Ethan standing proudly beside them. Next to it was a new picture: Ethan and me, cutting the ribbon at the new pediatric trauma wing we had funded in my parents' names.
"Grant tried to call again today from the prison," Ethan noted casually, looking out the window. "His lawyer says he's struggling in general population."
I picked up my pen and signed a final document on my desk.
"Block the number," I said, my voice light and free. "I don't have time to dwell on the past. We have a future to build."
Ethan grinned. "That's my sister."
I adjusted the emerald pendant resting at my throat, grabbed my briefcase, and walked out the door alongside my brother.
May you like
The storm was over. The Whitmores were ghosts, locked away in the dark where they belonged. I had survived the worst moment of my life, only to find the greatest blessing I could have ever asked for.
I wasn't just surviving anymore. I was alive. And for the first time in my life, I held the pen, and I was writing my own happily ever after.
