I received a 25-year prison sentence for a crime I didn’t commit. My husband stood beside his pregnant mistress while my mother-in-law pretended to cry. I calmly revealed one secret. The officers froze, and the prosecutor shouted, “Stop the transfer!”

For the first time in months, I felt as though the company was becoming his again.

Not because the share price was rising.

Not because the board was finally cooperating.

But because we were returning to the values he’d built it upon.

One evening, Harrison brought me the latest financial report.

“The company is stabilizing,” he said. “Investors are regaining confidence.”

I nodded.

“What about the recovered funds?”

“They’re being returned through the appropriate channels.”

I looked toward my father’s portrait, which had finally been restored to its original place.

“He would have wanted us to protect the employees first.”

Harrison smiled.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

***

One month later, I attended Silas’s sentencing hearing.

The man who entered the courtroom barely resembled my husband.

His expensive suits were gone.

So was his arrogant smile.

He looked exhausted and frightened.

Beatrice sat nearby with her attorney.