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Chapter Nine

Author: Ogaedu
last update Last Updated: 2025-12-29 19:22:44

‎The building was quieter than Grace expected.

‎No shouting. No chaos. Just controlled movement and hushed voices. The kind of place where decisions were made behind closed doors and consequences arrived later.

‎Grace walked through security without hesitation.

‎Nathaniel followed several steps behind her, as promised.

‎They were led into a waiting area with plain walls and long benches. A few people were already seated. Lawyers. Officials. Observers who pretended neutrality but carried opinions in their posture.

‎Grace sat down.

‎Her hands rested calmly on her lap.

‎Inside, her heart beat steadily. Not fast. Not slow. Just present.

‎After several minutes, Daniel Reed entered.

‎He avoided her eyes at first. When he finally looked at her, his expression held regret, but also fear. Fear of exposure. Fear of consequence.

‎Grace did not look away.

‎An official called her name.

‎She stood.

‎Nathaniel watched as she walked forward alone.

‎Inside the hearing room, the air felt dense. A long table stretched across the center. Several panel members sat behind it. Files were stacked neatly in front of them.

‎Grace took her seat.

‎“State your name for the record,” one of them said.

‎“Grace Morgan,” she replied. “Formerly Hannah Cole.”

‎A pause followed.

‎The chairperson nodded. “You may begin.”

‎Grace did not rush.

‎She spoke clearly.

‎“I am here because five years ago, a decision was made using incomplete and altered information. That decision removed my professional standing, my credibility, and my ability to defend myself.”

‎She stopped.

‎No emotion. Just fact.

‎“I am not here to accuse,” she continued. “I am here to correct.”

‎One of the panel members leaned forward. “Why now?”

‎Grace met his gaze. “Because the truth did not disappear. It waited.”

‎They asked about timelines.

‎She answered.

‎They asked about documents.

‎She provided them.

‎They asked about impact.

‎She paused.

‎“It cost me my career,” she said. “And my future at the time. But the greater cost was learning how easily systems abandon individuals when accountability is inconvenient.”

‎Silence followed.

‎Daniel Reed was called next.

‎Grace remained seated.

‎She did not watch him walk forward.

‎She did not need to.

‎His voice was quieter than she remembered.

‎He admitted to pressure.

‎He admitted to omission.

‎He admitted to benefiting from the outcome.

‎The room changed with every word.

‎When Nathaniel was called, the tension sharpened.

‎He stood calmly.

‎“I signed the final report,” he said. “Based on what I was presented.”

‎“Do you accept responsibility?” the chairperson asked.

‎“Yes,” Nathaniel replied. “For failing to question what should have been questioned.”

‎Grace closed her eyes briefly.

‎Not in relief.

‎In acknowledgment.

‎After hours of testimony, the hearing was adjourned.

‎No verdict.

‎No announcement.

‎Just a promise of review.

‎Grace stood and gathered her things.

‎As she left the room, she felt lighter.

‎Not because it was over.

‎But because she had spoken.

‎Outside, reporters waited.

‎Grace stopped.

‎She did not hide.

‎“Ms. Morgan,” one called. “Do you feel vindicated?”

‎“No,” Grace replied. “I feel accurate.”

‎Another asked, “Do you forgive those involved?”

‎Grace paused.

‎“Forgiveness is not procedural,” she said. “Accountability is.”

‎She walked past them.

‎Nathaniel followed.

‎In the car, neither spoke at first.

‎“You did well,” he said finally.

‎“I did what was necessary,” Grace replied.

‎That night, Grace stood in the shower longer than usual.

‎She let the water run.

‎She breathed.

‎The next morning, the world reacted.

‎Headlines shifted.

‎Language softened.

‎Questions deepened.

‎Grace did not read most of it.

‎She focused on what she could control.

‎At work, she was treated differently.

‎Not cautiously.

‎Respectfully.

‎One colleague said quietly, “I didn’t know.”

‎Grace nodded. “Most people didn’t.”

‎Nathaniel received formal notice that the review would extend.

‎He accepted it without argument.

‎That evening, they sat across from each other at the dining table.

‎“This could take months,” he said.

‎“Yes,” Grace replied.

‎“And whatever comes out of it may not satisfy everyone.”

‎She nodded. “It doesn’t need to.”

‎He studied her. “What does?”

‎Grace thought for a moment.

‎“Being able to move forward without carrying what doesn’t belong to me,” she said.

‎He nodded.

‎Later that night, Grace dreamed again.

‎This time, the courtroom was empty.

‎She stood alone.

‎She spoke.

‎Her voice echoed clearly.

‎She woke with tears in her eyes.

‎Not from pain.

‎From release.

‎The next day, an envelope arrived.

‎No return address.

‎Inside was a short note.

‎You were right.

‎Thank you for not staying silent.

‎Grace folded it and placed it in her drawer.

‎She did not smile.

‎But she breathed easier.

‎That evening, Nathaniel joined her on the balcony.

‎“I don’t know what happens next,” he said.

‎Grace looked out at the city. “Neither do I.”

‎“But I know what won’t,” she continued. “I won’t disappear again.”

‎He nodded. “And I won’t look away.”

‎They sat together.

‎Not as a contract.

‎Not as a performance.

‎As two people standing in truth.

‎And for the first time, the future did not feel heavy.

‎It felt open

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