The paper was still warm from the machine, smelling of heated toner.

Sarah scanned the pages, her pen leaving swift, black signatures at the bottom of each.

“We are sending this via a private courier to your sister’s apartment immediately,” she said, looking up at me.

“And I am emailing a digital copy to her personal account right now.”

She clicked her mouse with a decisive snap.

“The letter details the exact statutes on wire fraud, blackmail, and criminal extortion under Ohio law,” she continued.

“It informs her that if she contacts your clients or releases any of these fabrications, we will file a formal complaint with the county prosecutor within the hour.”

“Will she believe it?” I asked, my throat tight.

“She will when she realizes a felony conviction means prison time, not just a slap on the wrist,” Sarah said.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of ten years of silence finally shifting off my shoulders.

I got up from the leather chair, thanked Sarah, and walked out into the cold Cleveland morning.

The sky was a heavy, bruised grey, threatening sleet.