Chapter 24
The executive boardroom on the fiftieth floor of Mercer Tower—formerly Sinclair Tower—had undergone a complete transformation. The dark, oppressive mahogany paneling and intimidating leather chairs had been replaced with bright, open-concept glass partitions, minimalist Scandinavian furniture, and warm natural lighting pouring in from the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.
Caroline sat at the head of the long oak conference table, reviewing the architectural blueprints for the new Caroline Mercer Foundation community centers scheduled to break ground across the tri-state area next spring.
The heavy glass door opened quietly, and Marcus Vance stepped into the room, holding a thick manila envelope bearing the federal prosecutor's seal.
"The final sentencing hearings concluded an hour ago," Marcus announced, walking over to the table and laying the envelope down before her.
Caroline looked up from the blueprints, her expression calm and composed. "And?"
"Douglas received twenty-five years without the possibility of parole for federal embezzlement, obstruction of justice, and conspiracy to commit fraud," Marcus reported, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite her. "Given his age and failing health, the judge noted he'll likely spend the rest of his natural life inside a federal medical facility."
"And Juliette?" Caroline asked quietly, her voice devoid of triumph, carrying only a faint, melancholic echo of closure.
"Fifteen years," Marcus replied softly. "She pled guilty to reckless endangerment, insurance fraud, and falsification of medical records in exchange for testifying against Richard regarding the financial wire transfers. She's currently housed in the minimum-security women's facility upstate. Her lawyers tried to arrange a family visitation request for you yesterday."
Caroline stared down at the blue architectural blueprints for a long moment before looking back up at the veteran detective. "Did you approve it?"
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"I told them the Caroline Mercer Foundation is far too busy rebuilding community infrastructure to entertain ghost stories," Marcus said with a slight, knowing smile. "Though... if you ever want to visit her, the option is yours."
"Some doors are meant to remain closed, Marcus," Caroline said, sliding the blueprints neatly into a leather folder. "Juliette chose her path the night she locked the service door. I've walked mine out of the fire."
