Chapter 63 Sentencing
The month before sentencing passed in strange limbo.
Winters was in federal custody, but his conviction dominated headlines. Think pieces about billionaire justice. Debates about whether the sentence would be harsh enough. Speculation about appeals.
And through it all, Ariella and Aiden tried to figure out what came next.
“We could go back to school,” Aiden suggested one morning over coffee. “Both of us. Finish senior year properly.”
“In the middle of March? The year’s almost over.”
“So we start fresh in the fall. Get our diplomas. Apply to colleges. Do normal teenager things.”
Normal. The word felt foreign after everything.
“What about Frost Industries?” Ariella asked.
“I have a board. Executives who actually know what they’re doing. I don’t have to run it myself.” He paused. “I don’t want to run it myself.”
“Your father…”
“Built something I never asked for. And I’m done living his life.” Aiden took her hand. “I want to study architecture. Design buildings that make people feel safe instead of managing a company that nearly destroyed us. Is that selfish?”
“It’s human.”
“What about you? What do you want?”
Ariella thought about it. The bakery was thriving, Claire had hired two employees and was expanding the menu. They didn’t need Ariella’s labor anymore. Didn’t need her sacrifice.
“I want to go to culinary school. Actually study baking instead of just doing it because we needed money. I want to…” She stopped, embarrassed.
“What?”
“I want to be a kid for a while. Before I have to be an adult. Is that stupid?”
“That’s the least stupid thing I’ve heard in months.”
They spent the weeks planning a future beyond trials and testimony. Looking at schools. Imagining lives where they chose their paths instead of having them chosen for them.
But first, there was sentencing.
April fifteenth arrived cold and rainy.
The courthouse was packed again, but the energy was different, less circus, more solemn proceeding. Winters had been convicted. Now he’d learn the price.
The prosecution recommended thirty years. Winters’ lawyers argued for leniency, his age, his contributions to society, his lack of prior criminal history.
“My client made mistakes,” Pierce said. “But he’s not a monster. He’s a businessman who got caught up in complicated financial arrangements. Thirty years would be a death sentence for a fifty-two-year-old man. We ask for mercy.”
Then it was the victims’ turn to speak.
Patricia Moreno went first, speaking about her son. About the promising accountant who’d questioned irregularities and paid with his life.
“I don’t know if James Winters personally ordered my son’s death,” she said, voice shaking. “That’s still being investigated. But I know he created an environment where asking questions was dangerous. Where doing the right thing could get you killed. And for that, he deserves no mercy.”
Two other families spoke. Then Claire stood.
“My son Ethan was nineteen,” she said simply. “He had his whole life ahead of him. He was kind and funny and so smart. And he died because he noticed something was wrong and tried to fix it.”
Her voice broke.
“I’ll never see him graduate college. Never meet his children. Never hear his laugh again. All because James Winters valued money more than human life. So no, I don’t think thirty years is too harsh. I think it’s not nearly enough.”
She sat down. Ariella squeezed her hand.
Then Judge Park asked if Winters wanted to speak.
He stood slowly. Even in an orange jumpsuit, he projected authority.
“Your Honor, I maintain my innocence. But I respect the jury’s verdict. I understand I’ll spend the rest of my life paying for crimes I didn’t commit. I accept that with dignity.”
He turned to the families.
“To those who’ve lost loved ones, I’m sorry for your pain. But I didn’t cause it. And I hope someday the truth will emerge.”
Then he sat down.
The audacity of it, maintaining innocence after conviction made Ariella’s blood boil.
Judge Park was unmoved.
“Mr. Winters, I’ve reviewed the evidence extensively. The jury’s verdict was supported by overwhelming documentation. You systematically stole forty million dollars over eight years. You abused positions of trust. You threatened witnesses. You showed no remorse.”
She paused.
“The federal sentencing guidelines recommend twenty-five to thirty years. The prosecution seeks thirty. The defense seeks ten. I find thirty years appropriate given the magnitude of the crime, the number of victims, and the defendant’s complete lack of accountability.”
She looked directly at Winters.
“I hereby sentence you to thirty years in federal prison, to be served consecutively on all counts. You’ll be eligible for parole after serving eighty-five percent of your sentence. That’s twenty-five and a half years. You’re fifty-two years old. You’ll be seventy-seven before you have a chance at freedom.”
The gavel struck.
Winters didn’t flinch. Just stood as marshals approached to take him back to custody.
“We’ll appeal,” Pierce said immediately.
“That’s your right,” Judge Park said. “Court is adjourned.”
They led Winters away. This time, he didn’t look at Ariella. Didn’t acknowledge anyone. Just walked out with his head high, pretending this was all beneath him.
Outside, the media frenzy was immediate.
“Thirty years! How does that feel?”
“Is this justice for your brother?”
“What’s next for the Frost family?”
Aiden gave a brief statement. “We’re grateful for the sentence. We’re grateful for everyone who spoke up despite fear. And we’re ready to move forward with our lives.”
“What about the murder investigation?”
“The FBI is handling that. We trust they’ll pursue justice for all of Winters’ victims.”
They didn’t mention that they’d decided not to actively participate in any murder trial. That they’d given the FBI everything they had and needed to step back before this consumed them completely.
Some people would call that giving up.
Ariella called it surviving.
That night, they had dinner at the bakery, all four of them crammed into the small apartment above it, eating Claire’s cooking, celebrating in a quiet, exhausted way.
“It’s really over,” Lily said.
“The trial is over,” Marcus corrected. He’d joined them for dinner. “Winters will appeal. The murder investigation continues. But the active fighting, yes, that’s over.”
“So we can leave the mansion?” Lily asked hopefully. “Actually go outside without armed guards?”
“Within reason. The security threat has decreased significantly with Winters in custody. But you should still be cautious.”
“I’ll take cautious over imprisoned.”
They toasted with sparkling cider to justice, to survival, to whatever came next.
Later, when Claire and Lily were cleaning up, Ariella and Aiden stood on the bakery’s roof, watching the city lights.
“Thirty years,” Ariella said. “It seems like a lot and not enough at the same time.”
“He’ll die in prison. That’s something.”
“Is it justice?”
“I don’t know. But it’s the best we’re going to get.”