Chapter 592
Chapter 591:
A scream pierced the air. Conrad’s daughter lunged forward, but another agent stepped in, holding her back with firm, careful hands. His wife stood frozen where she was, her face drained to the color of chalk, her body trembling.
The guests reacted with a chaotic symphony of self-preservation. Some stepped back with almost theatrical abruptness. Others turned their heads, suddenly absorbed by the patterns in their wine glasses. A handful of Conrad’s closest political allies exchanged rapid, panicked glances, their faces going ashen as they quietly calculated the fallout.
Conrad was marched away — past the elegant dining table, past the untouched, multi-tiered celebration cake. His political empire, his family’s name, crumbled to dust in that single, public, humiliating minute.
His wife’s world collapsed with it. Her husband’s paranoid warnings about Justin Collins suddenly rang loud in her ears. In sheer panic, she bypassed their lawyers and political allies entirely, fumbling for her phone and dialing the public number for Senator Collins’s office.
The line rang twice before a junior aide answered. She was put through.
“Justin,” she sobbed the moment she heard the connection, her voice breaking. “What did you do? For the love of God, what have you done to Conrad p>
On the other end, Justin’s voice was unnervingly calm — stripped of all emotion save for a faint, chilling trace of satisfaction.
“What have I done?” he said. “I’m afraid that question is not for me, Mrs. Sterling p>
A block from the Sterling estate, a black sedan sat deep in the shadows of the street. Justin was in the back seat, the phone pressed to his ear. Carmen sat beside him, her hand clasped tightly in his.
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Sterling shrieked. “What do you know p>
Justin watched through the tinted window as Conrad was guided into the back of the FBI vehicle.
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“I know everything,” he said softly. “Because I am the one who submitted the evidence to the Department of Justice p>
A gut-wrenching sob was the only response, followed by the distant clatter of a phone hitting stone.
Justin ended the call.
He didn’t feel the rush of victory. He didn’t feel the sick thrill of revenge. He felt only a heavy, suffocating weight finally — irrevocably — lifting from his chest. A long and agonizing chapter had closed.
He turned to Carmen. He pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.
“It’s over,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. “For you. For your parents p>
Carmen stared out the window at the flashing red and blue lights. Tears ran silently down her face — not tears of joy, but tears of release. Seven years of injustice, of pain, of buried truth, finally washing away.
Justin held her tighter and let her cry against his chest.
In the distance, the sharp wail of police sirens cut through the quiet Washington night.
A fine, misting rain fell over the Hudson Valley the following morning. The air was cool and clean, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine needles.