Chapter 10 - An Alliance of Convenience
In her office at Oakwood Manor,
Vivian sat at her desk,
her computer screen displaying the financial reports of her family’s restored trust.
The five million dollars Preston had stolen had been recovered,
returned to the charity funds where it belonged,
and the board was fully under her control.
Her investigator,
Marcus,
entered the room,
carrying a new file containing information on Preston’s co-conspirators.
It seems Preston’s lawyer is begging for a meeting,
Marcus said,
he is offering to give up his associates in exchange for a lighter sentence.
Vivian did not look up from her screen,
her expression remaining calm and focused.
We don't need his cooperation,
Marcus,
she said,
we already have all the evidence we need to convict his associates without him.
She had spent the last twenty-four hours building alliances with the very investors Preston had tried to swindle,
offering them stable,
honest partnerships under her leadership.
They had been impressed by her competence,
her transparency,
and her deep understanding of the market,
and they had gladly shifted their loyalty to her.
Preston’s plan to isolate her had backfired completely,
as his own criminal actions had united her partners behind her.
She had also contacted Sloane’s family,
respectable people who were horrified by their daughter’s actions,
and who had agreed to help Vivian recover the stolen property.
They had returned the pale ivory hat,
which now sat on a stand in Vivian’s closet,
a quiet trophy of her victory.
Sloane had agreed to plead guilty to her part in the conspiracy,
cooperating fully with the prosecution to avoid a lengthy prison sentence,
effectively sealing Preston’s fate.
Vivian felt no joy in their destruction,
only a sense of justice,
a feeling that the balance of her world had finally been restored.
She had saved her family’s legacy,
protected the charity that helped so many,
and proven that she was a true Whitaker.
Preston’s trial was scheduled for the following month,
but Vivian knew there would be no trial,
as his lawyer would eventually advise him to plead guilty to save himself from a maximum sentence.
He would spend his prime years in a cold cell,
with nothing to think about but his own arrogance,
and the wife he had underestimated.
As she closed her laptop,
May you like
Vivian looked out at the rolling hills of Oakwood Manor,
knowing she was finally free.
