Chapter 10 - The Unbroken Chain-10
Two years after the incident.
The high-rise headquarters of the Vance Architectural Group in downtown Denver was a beacon of modern innovation. We didn't take on predatory real estate projects or work with corrupt developers. We designed sustainable municipal buildings, green housing complexes, and public infrastructure that served the community.
I sat at the long walnut conference table in my private executive office on the forty-fifth floor, reviewing the quarterly financial statements for our new housing shelter initiative.
Beside me sat Natalie, reviewing candidate applications for our annual architectural scholarship program.
“Valerie,” Natalie spoke softly, placing a folder on the table. “I received an update from the state corrections liaison this morning regarding Diego.”
I looked up from my screen, my expression calm and detached. “What happened?”
“He was granted early parole last week after serving eighteen months,” Natalie said. “He’s living in a small studio apartment in Pueblo, working as a junior clerk at a commercial auto yard. He’s required to maintain his GPS ankle monitor for another year.”
“And Victoria?”
“She’s still living in that small rental unit in Aurora,” Natalie added. “She tried to file a civil claim against the bankruptcy estate last month, but the judge dismissed it without a hearing. Julian works two jobs to support her basic living expenses.”
I nodded slowly. The news didn't bring me a spike of joy, nor did it spark anger. It was simply a fact—a quiet, administrative confirmation that the universe had rebalanced itself.
“Let them live the life they earned,” I said gently, signing the approval document for our scholarship fund. “We have work to do.”
My desk phone rang softly. I pressed the speaker button.
May you like
“Ms. Vance,” my executive assistant’s voice came through cleanly. “The city planning committee is on line one. They’re ready to finalize the contracts for the new Denver Public Library expansion project.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” I smiled, picking up my pen. “Transfer them through.”
