He’d never be with you. Have you even looked at yourself in the mirror?

The afternoon sun slanted through the tall arched windows of Courtroom 3B, casting long, golden bars across the wooden benches and the polished floor. When the judge returned to the bench, the atmosphere in the room grew taut with anticipation. Every spectator leaned forward, holding their breath as the clerk handed the final sentencing document up to the dais.

Jordan stood beside his court-appointed defense attorney, his posture rigid, his face pale and drained of color. The arrogance that had defined his entire public persona was entirely gone, replaced by the crushing realization of his absolute culpability.

The judge looked down from the bench, her gaze sweeping over the courtroom before resting squarely on the defendant.

"Mr. Vance," the judge began, her voice carrying a cold, measured gravity that commanded total silence. "You built an enterprise on the systematic exploitation of trust, fraud, and the psychological subjugation of those who trusted you most. You operated under the assumption that your wealth and social standing placed you above the law and beyond accountability. You were profoundly mistaken."

The pause that followed stretched across the room like a taut wire.

"For multiple counts of wire fraud, securities manipulation, corporate conspiracy, and witness intimidation, this court sentences you to twenty-five years in federal custody without the possibility of early parole," the judge declared, bringing the gavel down with a sharp, definitive strike. "Furthermore, all remaining assets are forfeit to the court-administered restitution fund for victims."

The gavel strike echoed like a gunshot, signaling the official end of an era. There were no gasps of shock in the gallery—only a collective, quiet exhale of justice finally delivered.

Jordan did not shout, nor did he argue. He simply closed his eyes as federal marshals stepped forward, placing handcuffs around his wrists with quiet efficiency. As they guided him away through the side exit, he cast one final, fleeting glance back toward the gallery, but Elena was already looking forward, refusing to afford him even a fraction of her attention.