“It’s more than enough,” Marcus said. “The conspiracy charges against Julian are ironclad.”

“And Harris?” I asked.

“Harris is looking at twenty years minimum,” Marcus said. “Official misconduct, computer intrusion, and conspiracy to commit stalking.”

“What about Julian?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“With the evidence of the tracking devices and the extortion ledger, he won’t get bail,” Marcus said.

“He’s going to prison, Clara. For a very long time.”

I closed my eyes, letting the words sink into my chest.

The weight that had rested on my shoulders for three years didn’t disappear.

But it became lighter, something I could finally carry without breaking.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“We will need you to come in for a deposition on Tuesday,” Marcus said.

“I will be there,” I said.

I hung up the phone and set it down on the clean quartz counter.

The sun was fully up now, shining through the large windows of my high-tech kitchen.

The light caught the clean surfaces, making them gleam.

I walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a fresh carton of eggs.

I set them on the counter, next to a bowl of fresh spinach and a block of gruyère.

I did not need a recipe this time.

I cracked the eggs into a bowl, the sound sharp and clean in the quiet room.

I began to whisk, my movements steady and deliberate.

I was still here.

And the kitchen was mine again.