Chapter 5 - The Price of Freedom
The trial was short, but the fallout was permanent.
My mother and father were hit with heavy fines and suspended sentences, their credit destroyed and their social standing in our hometown obliterated.
Paige was transported to a minimum-security federal facility in West Virginia.
I didn't go to the sentencing. I didn't send a letter.
I stayed in London.
I spent my days working at a firm where people respected my talent rather than my bank account.
I spent my evenings walking through Hyde Park, breathing air that didn't feel heavy with the expectations of toxic people.
One afternoon, a package arrived at my new flat.
It was from Reid.
Inside was the bronze statue Paige had used to hit the SCIF unit.
It had been cleared as evidence and returned to the owner of the property.
Since it was technically mine, Reid had shipped it to me.
There was a note inside.
“It’s a bit dented, but it’s still standing. Reminded me of someone. Stay safe, Marissa.”
I placed the statue on my mantle.
The dent on the base was a permanent reminder of the night the "Keane Family Tax" finally reached its limit.
I looked at my phone. There were no missed calls. No frantic texts. No demands for money or favors.
For the first time in my life, the silence wasn't lonely. It was a masterpiece.
I had lost a family, but I had gained a life.
I realized then that the lockbox my mother had been so desperate to find never contained money.
The "wealth" they thought I was hiding was actually just my boundaries.
And once they tried to break those, they found out exactly how much protection I really had.
I walked to my window and looked out at the city of London, a place where I was just Marissa—not a daughter, not a sister, and certainly not a victim.
May you like
I was finally home.
And this time, I was the only one who had the code.
