Chapter 9 - THE FINAL FALLOUT
The trial of the Ashford family was the most publicized legal spectacle in Illinois history.
Margaret Ashford sat in the cold, wooden defendant's chair at the Cook County Courthouse, wearing a plain gray prison jumpsuit instead of her usual designer suits and diamond necklaces. Beside her sat Nathaniel, his wrist in a cast, looking hollow and completely broken.
The courtroom was packed with journalists, former socialite friends who now looked at them with disgust, and corporate observers.
I sat in the front row, wearing a tailored cream suit, flanked by Gabriel Vance and Samuel Whitmore.
The judge slammed his gavel. "In the matter of the State v. Nathaniel Ashford and Margaret Ashford, we will now hear final sentencing."
The District Attorney presented the final pile of evidence—not only Nathaniel's attempted murder and embezzlement, but the thirty-year-old evidence of Margaret’s fraud, corporate sabotage, and tax evasion that Samuel and I had turned over.
The judge, a stern woman with gray hair, looked down at Margaret over her glasses.
"Margaret Ashford," the judge declared, her voice cold and unyielding. "For thirty years, you operated a network of deceit, destroying innocent lives and stealing the intellectual property of Sarah Bennett. You showed zero remorse, even as you attempted to bankrupt her daughter. I sentence you to twelve years in state penitentiary without the possibility of parole."
Margaret gasped, slumping back into her chair, weeping hysterically. "No! I am an Ashford! You can't put me in prison with criminals!"
"Silence!" the judge barked. She turned her eyes to Nathaniel.
"Nathaniel Ashford. For attempted murder, grand larceny, and corporate fraud, I sentence you to eighteen years in high-security prison."
Nathaniel didn't even scream. He simply buried his face in his hands and sobbed uncontrollably like a child.
As the guards moved in to chain their ankles and lead them toward the side door, Nathaniel looked over at me one last time. His eyes were wide, filled with a desperate, pathetic plea for forgiveness.
I didn't smile. I didn't gloat. I simply looked at him, picked up my mother's vintage gold pen from my folder, and closed my notebook.
Justice had been served. My mother's name was cleared. My grandfather's legacy was secure.
As we walked out of the courthouse steps into the bright afternoon sunlight, hundreds of reporters swarmed us.
"Miss Bennett! How does it feel to win?" "What’s next for Ashford Global?"
I stopped at the top of the marble steps, looking out at the city.
"Ashford Global is no more," I announced clearly into the sea of microphones. "As of this morning, the company has been officially renamed Bennett International. We are dedicating fifty percent of our annual profits to funding young female entrepreneurs, architects, and charitable housing across the country."
May you like
The crowd erupted into applause.
Gabriel stepped up beside me, slipping his hand into mine. I looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his fingers, knowing that the darkest chapter of my life was finally over.
