Chapter 10
The Federal Envelope
Three weeks later, the media circus surrounding the Calloway trial reached a fever pitch.
The front page of every newspaper from New York to Charleston featured headlines about the fall of the city’s most untouchable syndicate.
I sat at the mahogany desk in the study.
The room smelled of fresh lemon oil and sea salt.
All of Graham’s personal effects had been seized by the federal government.
The house was mine now.
Every square foot restored to its original title under my father’s trust.
A courier delivered a thick manila envelope bearing the federal court seal.
I slit open the top with a silver letter opener.
Inside was the official indictment summary and sentencing recommendation.
Racket Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act—RICO.
Extortion, financial fraud, embezzlement, and conspiracy to commit manslaughter.
The prosecutor’s note attached to the front read:
Mrs. Calloway, your testimony and documentation have guaranteed a minimum of forty years without parole. The empire is dismantled.
I set the letter down on the blotter.
My hands didn't shake.
For the first time in ten years, I felt completely weightless.
My phone chimed on the desk.
It was a text from retired Detective Miller.
Miller: Federal judge signed the final asset transfer this morning. The docks are officially yours again, Eleanor.
I typed a quick reply.
Me: Thank you, Miller. Meet me at the harbor slip at noon.
I closed my laptop and stood up.
I walked to the closet and pulled out my father’s old woolen captain’s coat.
It smelled of ozone, salt, and old canvas.
May you like
I slipped it over my shoulders.
It was a little big, but it fit just right.
