Chapter 15 - The Final Course
Clara looked at Julian through the scratched glass, seeing right through the frantic, pathetic shell of the man she had once thought she loved. There was no anger left in her heart, no bitter resentment, and no desire for petty vengeance. There was only a profound, crystalline clarity.
“Arthur took it, Julian,” Clara said quietly into the receiver.
Julian blinked, confusion washing over his haggard face. “What? Father is dead. He’s been dead for eight years!”
“He was smarter than you,” Clara replied. “He knew exactly what you and Eleanor would do the moment his coffin was in the ground. The twenty million dollars you wired didn't go to Switzerland, Julian. It went into the Arthur Vance Worker Pension Restoration Trust. The court ratified the distribution this morning. Three hundred families who lost their healthcare and retirement benefits eight years ago will start receiving their back-pay next month.”
Julian’s eyes widened in horror. “No... no, no, no! That was my money! That was my life!”
“It was never yours,” Clara said, standing up from her metal stool. She smoothed down her coat, feeling the weight of the silver flash drive in her pocket one last time before she turned it over to the court clerk on her way out. “You and Eleanor built a life out of stolen pieces and called it an empire. Now you have to live in the wreckage.”
“Clara, wait!” Julian screamed, clawing at the plexiglass as Clara turned her back. “Clara, don’t leave me here! Clara!”
The guard stepped forward, forcing Julian away from the booth as he kicked and wept like a child, his voice muffled by the thick acoustic glass until it was nothing more than an ugly, pathetic whine.
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Clara walked through the heavy security doors, passing through the metal detectors and out into the crisp, biting winter air. The sky above was a brilliant, cloudless blue. The wind whipped her dark hair across her face, cold and completely free.
She walked down the granite steps of the courthouse toward the street, her hands tucked deep into her coat pockets. She didn't look back once. As she reached the corner of the avenue, she tossed a small silver flash drive into a curbside mailbox addressed to the state prosecutor, turned toward the train station, and walked away into a life of her own making.
