Chapter 6 - The Sentencing and The Rebirth
The criminal trial lasted less than three days.
When I took the stand to testify, the courtroom was dead silent. I didn't wear heavy makeup to cover the scars on my neck and jaw. I let the jury see the faint, textured silver lines that would permanently mark my skin. I spoke clearly, calmly, and without a single tear, recounting the morning he threw the coffee, the coldness in his eyes, and the years of emotional manipulation that led up to it.
Brooke’s testimony was the final nail in the coffin. She painted Arthur as a greedy, volatile mastermind, entirely throwing him under the bus to save her own skin.
The jury deliberated for less than two hours.
Guilty on all counts.
The judge, a stern woman with zero tolerance for domestic abusers, looked down at Arthur with pure disgust.
"Arthur Vance, your actions were not only a grotesque display of domestic violence, but a calculated, predatory attempt to steal from the woman you swore to protect," the judge proclaimed, her voice echoing in the silent room. "I sentence you to seven years in the state penitentiary for felony assault, to be served consecutively with a five-year sentence for federal wire fraud."
Twelve years.
Arthur’s knees buckled. The bailiffs had to physically hold him up as he sobbed uncontrollably, begging the judge for mercy, begging me for forgiveness.
I didn't look back as I walked out of the courtroom.
The divorce was finalized a month later. Because of the embezzlement and the strict prenuptial agreement, Arthur received absolutely zero assets. Furthermore, the court ordered the liquidation of his pension and personal car to repay the remaining balance of the money he stole.
Brooke didn't fare much better. Although she avoided prison, the terms of her probation were incredibly strict. She was forced to declare bankruptcy. Without my money to fund her lifestyle, she ended up working as an assistant receptionist at a cheap strip-mall hair salon—ironically, the exact opposite of the luxury empire she had tried to steal from me.
As for me? I went back to the house.
I hired a crew to completely gut the interior. We ripped out the carpets, knocked down walls, and erased every single memory of Arthur Vance from the property. I transformed the space into a stunning, modern sanctuary filled with light, art, and peace.
The coffee-stained mug was thrown in the trash where it belonged.
I took control of my father's company publicly, stepping into the role of CEO without apologies or hiding. I stopped shrinking myself to make other people comfortable.
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I was finally free.
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