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Chapter 774:
Easton, who had been silent until now, pressed the intercom button. His measured, authoritative voice cut cleanly through the tension.
He held a draft of the Federal Plea Negotiation Memorandum against the glass for Susan to read. “If you testify against Richard,” he said, “I will personally assemble the best criminal defense team in New York. We will argue that you acted under duress and coercion. We will have your sentence reduced to time served, plus three years of probation p>
He paused, then continued. “Furthermore, we will legally freeze the trust fund Richard attempted to transfer to Lexi. We will ensure that every cent of it goes to Alycia—legally and irrevocably p>
At the mention of Alycia’s name, a sharp light ignited in Susan’s eyes.
She had stopped caring about her own life. But she would not allow everything she had spent her life building to go to a stranger. And she would not allow her daughter to end up with nothing.
Richard’s betrayal had severed the last thread of feeling she had ever held for him. Hatred wound itself around her heart like a vine, slow and absolute.
𝘋𝗼n’t 𝗆i𝗌𝘴 n𝖾𝘄 𝗿𝘦𝗅𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘦𝗌 𝘰n.сom
She let out a laugh—chilling, hollow, the sound of a woman who had lost everything and had decided to burn the rest of it down herself. She looked at June, her eyes glowing with the same reckless intensity that had been in Alycia’s that very morning.
“He wants to build his new empire on my bones?” she said. “Then I’ll drag him straight to hell with me p>
Susan agreed to the deal. She leaned close to the intercom and spoke rapidly, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“The key to the Swiss numbered account he used to pay the hitman is hidden in a secret compartment beneath the floor of the safe in his study. The Long Island house.” She held June’s gaze through the glass. “And I will testify under oath that on the night of the helicopter crash, Richard came home drunk and told me he had ordered the cleanup operation himself p>
With the key and his wife’s sworn testimony, Richard’s murder conviction would be sealed. There would be no escape.
June listened, her nails pressing into her palms. Seven years of blood and loss and relentless pursuit had led to this room, this moment, this woman’s quiet, devastating confession.
Easton recorded Susan’s preliminary statement on an encrypted voice recorder and informed her that federal prosecutors would arrive within the hour to take her official account on record.
The deal was done.
June rose and looked through the glass at the woman on the other side—now nothing more than the final instrument of a justice long overdue.
There was no joy in it. Only the cold, hollow satisfaction of a destiny finally fulfilled.
“Enjoy the rest of your life, Mrs. Beasley,” she said.
Susan didn’t reply. She slumped back in her chair and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the prosecutors to arrive.
June and Easton turned and walked out of the visiting room. The heavy iron door slammed shut behind them.