Chapter 10
The high-security federal penitentiary in upstate New York was a sprawling complex of grey concrete, razor wire, and cold iron watchtowers. The winter snow had begun to fall in earnest, dusting the concrete exercise yard with a thin, brittle layer of white that crunched under the heavy boots of the inmates. David Vance stood near the chain-link fence, his breath pluming in the freezing air as he pulled his heavy grey institutional parka tighter around his chest.
Months had passed since his sentencing. The initial shock of the trial had settled into a dull, throbbing ache that was now his constant companion. In the prison hierarchy, white-collar criminals convicted of corporate fraud occupied a peculiar, isolated space. They were neither feared nor fiercely protected; they were simply ignored, viewed by the general population as out-of-water anomalies trying to survive in a harsh environment.
David spent his days working in the prison laundry room, sorting stacks of coarse institutional cotton and washing grey linens in industrial machines that roared with a deafening, mechanical drone. The repetitive nature of the work offered a strange, grim comfort. It kept his hands occupied and prevented his mind from spiraling too deeply into the dark caverns of his past mistakes.
During the evening recreation hour, he often found himself walking the perimeter of the yard alone, watching the snowflakes drift down through the stark loops of razor wire overhead. He thought about Lily constantly. Her face, framed by dark hair and that bright blue dress, was the first thing he saw when he woke up on his narrow metal bunk and the last thing he saw before sleep finally claimed him.
A heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder, breaking his concentration. David turned to see Marcus Sterling, who had also been convicted on related securities charges and was serving a shorter sentence in the same facility. The older lawyer looked thinner, his grey hair uncombed against the biting wind.
"Cold out here today, David," Sterling said, stuffing his gloved hands into his coat pockets.
"It's cold everywhere, Marcus," David replied quietly, his voice flat.
Sterling nodded, looking out across the snowy yard toward the distant watchtower. "I heard a rumor from the administrative wing today. Your wife's petition for final asset liquidation went through. Every remaining account, every stock option, every dollar tied to your corporate tenure has been completely stripped and redirected to a pediatric medical foundation established in Lily's name."
David stared at the falling snow, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over him. Good, he thought. The blood money he had chased, the gold-plated achievements he had traded his family for—they were all gone, scrubbed clean from the ledger of the world.
May you like
"She did the right thing," David murmured.
Sterling looked at him sideways, studying the younger man’s weathered face. "There's something else, David. A letter came through the legal mail intake yesterday. It's from Maya."
