Chapter 9 - The Scent of Lavender-9
Avery stared at Brent through the glass for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, deliberately, she allowed a small, calm smile to stretch across her face—the first real smile she had worn since the day she walked out of that Columbus courtroom.
"They aren't coming for me, Brent," Avery said softly into the phone.
"What are you talking about?" he muttered, his brow furrowing in deep confusion.
"Before I executed the master override at the server vault," Avery explained, her voice dropping into a harsh, freezing whisper that blurred the glass between us, "I routed the frozen eighty-five million dollars through a secondary, permanent escrow diversion protocol. I didn't hand the money to the federal treasury, Brent. I returned it directly to the syndicate's master accounts in Cyprus, along with a complete digital dossier of your personal bank records, your private messages to Marcus Chen plotting to cut them out of the riverfront development profits, and the proof that you were the one who brought the FBI down on their network to save your own skin."
Brent’s face went entirely white, the skin around his scarred jaw trembling with a sudden, primal terror as the true nature of his situation unmasked itself.
"The syndicate doesn't blame me for the leak, Brent," Avery whispered, her eyes burning into his shattered soul. "The syndicate blames you. They know you got greedy. They know you tried to steal their pipeline. And they know exactly which federal facility you're being transferred to next week. Enjoy your thirty-five years, Brent. You’re going to be spending them with very attentive roommates."
Avery placed the phone back on its cradle, stood up from the stool, and turned her back on him without a single backward glance, leaving Brent Harlan screaming frantically into the silent glass as the marshals dragged his chained body away into the dark.
The rain had completely stopped by the time Special Agent Harris and Avery stepped out onto the granite steps of the federal courthouse. The afternoon sun broke through the heavy gray clouds, painting the Columbus skyline in a bright, vibrant gold that felt like a baptism for her family's future.
Agent Harris looked at her, a deep, profound sense of relief softening the hard lines around her eyes. "What did he say to you in there?"
May you like
"Nothing that matters anymore, Harris," Avery said, drawing a deep breath of the clean, cool air into her lungs. Her chest didn't hurt anymore. The phantom weight of her marriage was completely gone. "He’s a ghost now. A ghost haunting a concrete cell."
"We’re going home, Avery," Harris said, wrapping her broad arm around her shoulder with a warm, professional respect as they walked down the steps toward her command vehicle. "To the valley cottage. Your family is waiting for the savior of the trust."
