Chapter 9 - The Phantom Investor
Inside the courthouse chambers, the room smelled of old paper, polished
mahogany, and nervous sweat.
The hearing was private.
No press was allowed beyond the heavy leather-padded doors.
Sitting at the defense table was Miles Corrigan.
He wore an orange Department of Corrections jumpsuit.
His hands were chained to a leather belt around his waist.
His hair was greasy, uncombed.
Beside him sat a court-appointed public defender who looked like he had
graduated from law school last month.
Across the room sat the State Attorney General, flanked by four senior
prosecutors.
Declan and I sat at the plaintiff's table.
The judge, a formidable woman in her sixties named Judge Evelyn Vance—no
relation to Declan—peered down over her half-moon spectacles.
"Mr. Corrigan," Judge Vance said, her voice dry and merciless.
"We have reviewed the forensic server logs."
"We have reviewed the Swiss bank accounts flagged by Vanguard Harbor Trust."
"We have also reviewed the audio recording obtained from the Beacon Grand."
Miles didn't lift his head.
He stared down at the polished wood of the table, his shoulders shaking with
silent, ragged breaths.
"Your honor," the public defender stammered, standing up quickly.
"My client wishes to enter an immediate guilty plea on all counts."
"He is prepared to surrender all corporate assets, intellectual property, and
personal trusts."
"In exchange, we request a recommendation for minimum security placement—"
"The state does not accept a plea bargain," the Attorney General stated loudly,
standing to his full height.
"Mr. Corrigan deliberately compromised hospital management software."
"He risked the lives of over three thousand pediatric patients across four state
facilities to conceal his embezzlement."
"We are seeking forty years."
"Without the possibility of parole."
Miles let out a strangled, broken whimper.
He finally looked over at me.
His eyes were hollow.
Sunken.
"Iris..." he croaked, his voice barely audible.
"I have two daughters."
"They're seven and nine."
"They're going to lose their home."
"Please..."
"You run a children's foundation."
"Have mercy on my children."
The room went completely still.
Declan’s jaw hardened, his posture stiffening to intervene, but I raised my hand
slightly to stop him.
I looked at Miles.
A man who had built his career on callous indifference.
A man who had watched another woman being publicly assaulted and calculated
whether it was politically safe to intervene.
"Your children will not lose their home, Miles," I said.
The entire courtroom looked at me in shock.
The prosecutors frowned.
The judge lowered her glasses.
Even Declan turned to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly.
"What did you say?" Miles whispered, blinking in total disbelief.
"This morning," I said calmly, "Vanguard Harbor purchased the outstanding debt
on your family’s residence."
"The deed has been transferred to an independent trust."
"Your daughters will keep their home."
"Their school tuition will be paid through high school graduation."
Miles’s eyes widened, tears instantly pooling in the corners of his eyelids.
"You... you did that?" he stammered, his chin quivering.
"After what I did to you?"
"Yes," I said.
My voice was quiet, but it filled every inch of the high-ceilinged chamber.
"Because unlike you, Miles... I do not punish children for the sins of their
fathers."
"You will spend the next forty years in a cell."
"You will think about what you did every single day."
"And every time your daughters visit you behind a glass partition, you will
remember that they have a roof over their heads not because of your
cleverness..."
"But because the woman you tried to destroy chose to protect them."
Miles’s head dropped onto the table.
He began to weep openly.
He sobbed with loud, racking gasps that echoed through the empty courtroom.
Judge Vance slammed her gavel down with a sharp, resonant crack.
"Bail is revoked," the judge ruled.
"Remand the prisoner to federal custody."
Two bailiffs grabbed Miles by the chains at his waist and led him through the
side door leading to the holding cells.
His weeping faded as the heavy iron door slammed shut.
Declan looked at me.
The hard, ruthless titan of industry had completely softened.
He reached under the table, finding my hand, and squeezed it with profound,
quiet reverence.
"You are a better person than I am, Iris," he whispered.
"No, Declan," I smiled softly, leaning my head against his shoulder.
May you like
"I just remember who I was before all the money."
"And I refuse to let people like them make me forget."
