LOGINThe house was modest. Three bedrooms. Small garden in the back. White fence that Marco loved to climb despite being told not to.Nothing like the Carter mansion. Nothing like the Fernandez compound.Just a normal house in a normal neighborhood where normal families lived normal lives.Exactly what Beverly and Mateo had always wanted.Marco burst through the back door, mud on his knees and a grin on his face."Daddy! I found a frog!"Mateo looked up from his laptop where he was reviewing quarterly reports for the family's legitimate shipping business. Don Fernandez had made good on his promise. All criminal operations dissolved. Everything legal. Everything clean."Did you touch it?" Mateo asked."Only a little," Marco said. "It jumped away.""Wash your hands before dinner.""But Daddy-""Hands. Now."Marco pouted but obeyed. At five years old, he had his mother's determination and his father's stubbornness. A challenging combination.Beverly appeared from the kitchen. Her hair longer
Twenty-four hours after his birth, Marco was breathing on his own.The oxygen support was removed. His tiny lungs finally strong enough to work independently. Dr. Silva declared him healthy. Remarkably healthy given everything he had survived.Beverly was recovering from surgery. The cesarean incision healing properly. Her body exhausted but strong. Finally able to hold her son for the first time.Diro helped her sit up in bed. Propping pillows behind her. Making sure she was comfortable."Ready?" he asked.Beverly nodded. Her eyes wet with anticipation.Vanya brought Marco from the neonatal unit. Still so small. Still so fragile looking. But breathing steadily. Eyes beginning to open."Here he is," Vanya said softly. "Your son."She placed Marco gently in Beverly's arms.Beverly looked down at her baby. At the tiny face. The small fingers. The perfect features that were somehow both hers and Diro's combined.Tears streamed down her face.She couldn't speak. But she didn't need to.Ev
Beverly woke at 3 AM with pain.Not the usual pregnancy discomfort she'd grown accustomed to. This was different. Sharp. Rhythmic. Unmistakable.She grabbed Diro's arm, shaking him awake."What is it?" he mumbled sleepily.Beverly's hands moved frantically in the dim light: Contractions. Starting. Strong ones.Diro was instantly alert. "How far apart?"Beverly counted. Another contraction hit. She gripped the sheets, breathing through it."That was less than ten minutes," Diro said. "We need Dr. Silva. Now."He was out of bed and running before Beverly could respond. Within minutes, Dr. Silva was in their room. Medical bag ready. Monitors being attached."Let me check your progress," Dr. Silva said calmly.He examined her. His expression gave nothing away but Beverly saw the slight tightening around his eyes."You're dilating faster than I'd like," he said. "And the baby's heart rate is slightly elevated. Given the stress your body has been under these past months, we need to monitor
But Irene was already dead.She couldn't be convicted. Couldn't be sentenced. Couldn't be led away in handcuffs.Instead, the trial was for her associates. The corrupt officials. The people who had enabled her crimes.And on a Tuesday afternoon, six weeks after the trial began, the verdicts came down.Judge Patricia Morrison. Guilty on all counts.Senator Richard Blake. Guilty on all counts.Detective Marcus Reynolds. Guilty on all counts.Twelve other defendants. All guilty.The courtroom erupted.Media frenzy intensified.Justice, finally, was being served.Beverly watched the coverage from the compound. Thirty-six weeks pregnant now. Marco due in four weeks. Her belly enormous. Her body tired but healthy.Diro sat beside her as the news anchor read the verdicts."In a historic decision today, all fifteen defendants in the Carter corruption trial were found guilty on all charges. Judge Morrison faces up to forty years in prison. Senator Blake faces thirty-five years. The remaining d
The trial began six months after Irene's death.Not her trial-she was beyond earthly justice now. But the trial of her associates. The corrupt officials. The people who had enabled her crimes for decades.Judge Patricia Morrison. Senator Richard Blake. Detective Marcus Reynolds. Twelve others charged with bribery, corruption, and conspiracy.The federal courthouse became a media circus. Reporters camped outside. Cameras everywhere. The nation watching as justice slowly ground forward.Beverly was thirty-four weeks pregnant when prosecutors contacted her."We need your testimony," the lead prosecutor explained during a video call. "Your story is central to multiple charges. The attempted poisoning. The abuse. The imprisonment. Your parents' murder. All of it connects to the larger conspiracy."Beverly sat in the compound's secure conference room. Diro beside her. Lawyers present."She can't travel," Diro said immediately. "The pregnancy is high-risk. She's been on restricted activity f
But Irene was already dead.She had shot herself at the mansion. Three months ago. Diro had watched it happen. Had seen her raise the gun. Had heard the shot. Had seen her fall.There was no arrest to be made. No confrontation to be had. No final words to exchange.Yet Diro found himself haunted by the words she would have said.He was sitting in Don Fernandez's office, reviewing final plans for Beverly's return, when the thought consumed him."She never answered for what she did," Diro said suddenly.Don Fernandez looked up from his paperwork. "What do you mean?""Irene. She killed herself before I could confront her. Before I could make her acknowledge what she stole from me. From us. She escaped accountability by choosing death.""She's dead, Mateo. That's accountability of a sort.""It's not enough. I wanted her to look me in the eye. To hear me tell her she was never my mother. That she stole me. That everything she did was evil."Don Fernandez set down his pen. "And what would t







