“The Justice Department does not negotiate with me.”

The heavy oak front door opened behind us.

The damp wind swept into the foyer, bringing the smell of wet earth.

Agent Miller entered, followed by three other officers in dark coats.

Vivian rose slowly from the sofa, her posture rigid.

“Vivian Bradford,” Agent Miller said.

“You are under arrest for bank fraud, embezzlement, and conspiracy.”

The handcuffs clicked loudly in the quiet room.

The sound was small, but it seemed to echo off the high ceilings.

Vivian did not cry or scream.

She only stared at me, her eyes cold with hatred.

“You will never be one of us, Clara,” she said as they led her toward the door.

“I never wanted to be,” I said.

The door closed, leaving only Garrett, Marcus, and me in the room.

Garrett sank onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands.

“Sign the papers, Garrett,” I said softly.

He did not look up.

He reached for the pen and signed his name on the line.

Three months later, the federal courtroom in Chicago was quiet.