At the start, she’d been cold and standoffish—which I understood seeing as the last time she’d seen him he’d been yelling abuse and physically hurting her.
But just like Larry always said, ‘Thieves can become saints. Saints can become thieves. Most of us deserve a second chance.’ Gio had changed. We’d celebrated with him over the phone when Stewie’s adoption finally came through and he no longer carried hate caused by being in Sean’s pocket.
He’d started a building course in prison, and in four years’ time—when he was due to be released—he’d be a fully-fledged carpenter ready to trade a skill for money.
We’d already arranged he’d work for me building shelters and renovating apartments for those in need. He’d never be homeless again and had a readymade family who knew how to forgive and help rather than judge and ridicule.
The reporters never fully went away.
Arnold Twig ensured their tattletales and slander were given new details. Larry fought for me in another trial—this one with only judges presiding, not a jury. The evidence had three overseers, not just one.
I had the opportunity to stand and reveal everything that I’d endured. I looked Arnold Twig in the eye and buried him under details, evidence, and the long years I’d served incorrectly.
I was no longer a kid and afraid of him.
He was afraid of me.
And despite Arnold’s rebuttal and lies, even marching Sean in front of the public as the perfect role model, the newspapers actually did a good turn for once and uncovered Sean’s old juvie record for deliberately maiming a local dog.
That scrap of juicy detail encouraged more reporters to dig into the not-so-innocent world of Sean Twig.
Slowly, women came forward to issue statements that they’d been touched inappropriately at school and been sworn to secrecy by him. Even a female teacher swore under oath that Sean had raped her on the last day of senior year.
She hadn’t reported it because she was afraid she’d be the one prosecuted for a teacher sleeping with a student.
The day Sean was officially arrested for more crimes than I could ever have done, Arnold Twig lost his position as chief of police and was detained, just like his son. His bail was set high enough that it would’ve hurt him in the wallet as well as his livelihood.
Despite knowing both would be sentenced for their crimes and would spend years paying for what they’d done to me, vengeance wasn’t entirely sweet. It felt as if they got off too easy. That evil had won in some small way.
At least, I had one small victory. Sean had been sentenced last week. Due to the multiple charges and heinous felonies he’d committed, he earned twenty years with no chance of parole.
Hopefully, in another few months, Larry would have a verdict, Arnold Twig would be sentenced, and my records would be expunged forever.
That would be the day Elle and I would agree to an interview by the press constantly hounding us for our tale. That day I would be vindicated, and I’d tell the world everything. Finally proud enough and untainted by lies to stand beside Elle, not as a thieving shadow on her empire, but as her equal.
I couldn’t wait.
All our loose ends were tying up neatly.
Greg finally went to trial, and Elle testified. However, our happiness meant she struggled to hold onto ill will, especially after seeing how changed Gio was. She hoped the same would happen to Greg.
She told the truth in court, the chains and cuffs that David had saved as evidence were revealed, the bank statements purchasing a second car, the diamond engagement ring he’d forced on her—every shred of premeditation Greg had done.
The jury oohed and aahed over her treatment. They glared at Greg and plotted his punishment even before the trial concluded.
Elle had full opportunity to push for a harsher sentence when the judge asked her what she wanted to see happen. However, she didn’t get nasty. She didn’t glower or beg for a harsh sentence.
She merely stated the facts and left—leaving the verdict up to the court.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later, after he was sentenced to eight years, two months—which I thought was exceedingly short—a large donation in Greg’s name appeared in my charity’s bank account.
That night, Elle told me about the deal she’d made with Greg to give him twenty million for my freedom.
She’d paid him, as she was loyal to her bargains.
But the more she became involved with projects around town and traded Belle Elle’s glitzy hallways for canvas tents and soup kitchens—helping those like me—she decided the bribery could be better used elsewhere.
Greg had done something unforgivable, and Elle took it into her own hands to make him redeemable. Fearing it would reflect badly on her character, she didn’t take it all. But she did transfer seventeen million from his name into the charity’s, leaving him with only three.
Only three.
It was a lot more than he fucking deserved.
The reporters noticed, as all charity donations had to be logged with the record service, and in the end, Elle’s final zing at Greg turned out to paint his misdemeanors in a better light.
Who knew? Maybe she set him on a righteous path. He was interviewed and written about as the most generous criminal in history—not an idiot who was greedy.
At least, his father, Steve, had peace of mind. His son wasn’t all bad. Belle Elle avoided more scandal about an attempted rapist who’d worked in their ranks for years. And I fell more in fucking love with the woman who was mine.
In a twist of fate, Sean was put into the same prison population as Greg and from rumors supplied to us thanks to Gio, Greg had earned his fair share of karma.
Unable to get to me, Sean took his frustration out on Greg. A broken arm and few other prison scuffles occurred. As much as I hated Sean for using me as his scape goat, I was kind of glad that Greg hadn’t gotten off completely scot-free.
He’d suffered some bodily pain for what he’d done to Elle.
It was fitting.
Our fake engagement turned real engagement was celebrated only by the special people we invited. We kept it small, understated, but the ring I bought her was anything but.
The diamond glittered with rubies on either side, perfectly elegant and locked on her finger for eternity.
Her sapphire star necklace was fixed from Gio ripping the chain off her neck, and it hung in our walk-in wardrobe like a talisman, reminding us to keep fighting, because sometimes, even the bad guys turned out to be the good ones.
Without Gio and Sean, I might never have heard Elle scream and never have ventured into the alley to save the day. She would’ve walked around New York and returned to her tower, never knowing I existed.
The tragedy of that never failed to steal my breath at the thought of growing old without her by my side.