Chapter 7 - The Open Door
The federal courthouse in downtown was a towering monument of limestone and neoclassical pillars, its grand steps echoing with the hurried footsteps of lawyers, journalists, and federal agents.
When I stepped out of the town car, a wall of camera flashes erupted from the top of the stairs. Reporters shouted over one another, throwing out questions about the Vale Trust, the multi-million-dollar wire fraud scheme, and the upcoming trial of Brandon and Gertrude.
I didn't rush. I kept my head high, my posture straight, and walked up the stone steps with the measured, unshakeable calm of a corporate attorney who knew every clause of the contract by heart.
Marcus stayed close to my left side, clearing a path through the media swarm.
At the heavy oak doors of the courthouse entrance, I paused for a fraction of a second and looked back at the city skyline stretching out beneath the bright autumn sun.
The last time I had stood in a room where someone tried to control my fate, I had been locked behind a glass door, watching oil burn and listening to threats of institutionalization. They had tried to trap me in a cage of their own design, assuming I would break under the pressure.
Instead, I had found the hidden wiring, pulled the cable, and brought their entire house of cards crashing down.
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I turned away from the cameras, pushed the heavy oak doors open, and stepped inside into the cool, quiet light of the corridor.
The door didn't lock behind me. And this time, I held the key.
