Chapter 9 - The Verdict of Stone
The trial of Barrett Vance was less of a legal proceeding and more of a public vivisection.
The courtroom was packed. Mallerie sat in the gallery, her posture perfect, her face an unreadable mask of calm.
When the prosecution entered the new evidence—the hard drive recovered from the ventilation shaft—Barrett’s lawyer turned pale. The recordings of Barrett boasting about how he’d manipulated Mallerie, how he’d used her mother’s inheritance, and his utter contempt for her 'broke' talent, played over the courtroom speakers.
The jury’s reaction was visceral. The disgust in the room was palpable.
Barrett looked toward the gallery, locking eyes with Mallerie. For the first time, he didn't look angry. He looked small. He looked like the man he truly was: an empty vessel who had mistaken someone else’s brilliance for his own.
The jury deliberated for less than three hours.
“Guilty on all counts,” the foreman announced.
The judge looked down at Barrett. “Mr. Vance, your actions were not merely criminal; they were an affront to the integrity of the profession you claim to represent. You are sentenced to twenty-five years in federal prison.”
As the bailiffs moved to take him away, Barrett didn't scream. He didn't fight. He simply slumped into his chair, his head bowed, the weight of his own hubris finally crushing him.
Mallerie stood up. She didn't stay for the sentencing of Taran, who was waiting in an adjacent courtroom to receive her own sentence for her role in the fraud.
Mallerie walked out of the courtroom, into the bright, blinding sunshine of a Chicago afternoon.
Her father was waiting for her by the car.
“It’s done, Mallerie,” he said, opening the door for her.
Mallerie took one final look at the courthouse steps. She wasn't thinking about Barrett. She wasn't thinking about the broken ribs or the cold, dark cellar.
She was thinking about the new Sterling-Vance headquarters—the glass-and-steel monolith she was designing, a structure that would change the skyline of Chicago forever.
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“I know it’s done, Dad,” she said, stepping into the car. “Now, I have a building to finish.”
She had built a life on the foundation of her own strength, and it was a structure that would never, ever fall.
