Chapter 13 - The Blacklisted Empire
The legal proceedings wrapped up by mid-winter.
Victor Vale was sentenced to twenty-two years at the federal correctional
facility in Otisville.
Miles Corrigan received thirty-five years, with no chance of early release for
twenty-eight years.
Evelyn Ward took a plea deal: eight years in a minimum-security facility in
Connecticut, with mandatory financial restitution.
The city had moved on.
The name Vance was no longer whispered with fear or rumors of scandal.
It was spoken with profound respect.
Declan had changed too.
The reclusive, cold billionaire who had avoided public life for seven years had
begun to step into the light.
He attended every ribbon cutting.
He stood beside me at every charity auction.
He held my hand openly on the streets of Manhattan.
One evening, we hosted a private dinner at our brownstone for the staff of the
Lantern Trust.
Delia Ford sat at the head of the long dining table, laughing as she shared
stories of her childhood in South Boston.
Declan sat beside me, pouring wine for our guests with his own hands.
No servers.
No caterers.
Just Declan and me, serving the people who worked every day to help others.
As dinner wound down, Delia raised her glass.
"To Iris," Delia said warmly.
The entire table lifted their glasses in unison.
"To the woman who taught this city that a torn blouse doesn't make you a
victim..."
"And that dignity is something no amount of money can ever buy."
"To Iris," Declan murmured, clinking his glass against mine.
His gray eyes were filled with an endless, oceanic warmth.
I looked around the table.
At the laughing faces.
At the simple, honest joy in the room.
My heart was full.
May you like
The nightmare that had begun with five broken buttons on a ballroom floor had
finally turned into a morning of peace.
