She no longer wore the mint-green custodial shirt. She was dressed in a tailored navy blue blazer and white trousers, holding a leather folder under her arm.
Beside her stood Marcus Mercer—her younger cousin and Dr. Mercer’s primary estate trustee.
"The board approved the restructuring this morning, Cricket," Marcus said, handing her a hot cup of coffee. "The municipal water safety trust has been fully restored. Vance Bio-Tech’s public charter has been transferred to an independent oversight committee."
"And Victoria?" Cricket asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"Her bail was denied yesterday," Marcus reported quietly. "The prosecutor is using the atrium video as primary evidence of intent to defraud. She's looking at twelve years without parole."
Cricket looked down at the fountain below. She could still see the spot where she had knelt on the cold floor, accused, humiliated, and surrounded by pointing cameras.
She pulled the small brass CRICKET nametag from her pocket, holding it in her hand for a long moment. Then, with a faint, peaceful smile, she set it gently on the balcony ledge beside her coffee cup.
She turned away from the balcony, walking down the sunlit corridor toward the executive offices, ready to take her place at the helm of the legacy her grandfather had built—unbroken, victorious, and free.