CHAPTER 143 — Justice Served

CHAPTER 143 — Justice Served

Lisa's POV

Life has begun to feel normal again, two weeks later.

It is not the same as before — we’re both different people now, a little more guarded with each other in some ways, a little more upfront in others. But normal as far as I’m concerned. Leo comes home every night. We make dinner together. We fall asleep clasped in each other's arms. 

We’re rebuilding, brick by brick, and it seems solid. Real. Lasting.

I’m at work, reading a contract, when my phone rings. Detective Martinez.

“Detective,” I say. 

“Ms. Reed. I have news that I think you should hear for yourself.” She pauses. “We have taken Claire Morrison—well, Claire Thorne now, I assume. Your stepsister.”

I place my pen down slowly. “Arrested?”

“Yes. We charged her with identity theft, fraud and conspiracy to commit fraud on the basis of what you told us and our information. It turns out you weren’t her only victim—she’s been becoming other people as well, scamming in different names. You helped us bring context to it.”

I sit back in my chair, absorbing this. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday evening. She’s been arraigned and denied bail. The prosecutor feels we have a good one.” Detective Martinez's voice softens a little. “I wanted you to know before it hits the news. Because of your blood relation, there may be some media interest.”

“Thanks for the warning.” My head is spinning. “What about Andre? Her husband?” 

"That was another thing I was going to tell you." She sighs. "The day Andre Morrison disappeared. Out of state, maybe out of the country. He has warrants out for him—he participated in the fraud—but we have yet to find him. He filed for personal bankruptcy last week and then he just disappeared" his business closed its doors last week and he just vanished.”

Gone. Andre is just… gone.

I should be feeling something about that —man, satisfaction, vindication, rage anything. 

“Ms. Reed? Are you still there?”

"Yes, sorry. I'm here." I exhale. "What now?"

“Claire’s trial is in three months. For all we know, the prosecutor might want you to testify — you’re one of the key witnesses in that impersonation racket.”

"I want whatever you want done."

“Good. As things progress, I”ll keep in touch.” She stops talking. “How are you doing? Really?”

It took me by surprise to be asked. "I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than okay. Things are… good.”

"Good to hear. You’ve been through a lot.”
We end the call.

Claire was arrested. Andre disappeared. It's over. Really it was truly over.

I grab my phone and text Leo: Can you come home early? We need to talk. 

Nothing bad—promise.

His response is immediate: On my way. Be there in 20.



Leo get home and there I am on the couch husband home and I am sitting there holding the wine glass in my hand although it's just four o'clock in the afternoon. 

"Lisa?" He lets his briefcase fall and sits down next to me. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"I'm all right." I set down the glass of wine and grasp his hand. "Detective Martinez called. Claire got arrested yesterday."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Arrested?"

I tell him everything - the charges, the other victims, the trial that’s set for three months from now. And Andre's going missing.

When I finish, Leo is quiet for a moment. "What do you think?"

"I thought I'd feel... something. Vindicated, maybe. Or satisfied. But I just feel... nothing.. As though it is a thing happening to strangers and not to people who used to walk with me."

"That's probably healthy," he says. "Means you've really moved on."

"Maybe." I'm quiet for a moment. "The prosecutor wants me to testify. To tell my story in court."

"What do you think?"

I think about it. "Scared. But also... ready? I'm not afraid to face her.”

“I’ll be there with you,” Leo says immediately. "Every step of the way. ‘If you want me there.’ If you want me there.”

I want you there." I look up at him. "Thank you. For being here. For choosing us."

He kisses my forehead. “Always.” 

Life goes on — work, dinners, lazy weekends. Our bond Leo and I grow stronger, more solid. We have our first real fight since he came back — about something stupid, dishes left in the sink — and we work through it. We talk instead of turning off. We pet each other even when we’re irritated at each other.

It feels like progress.

The media does pick up on Claire's story, but thankfully they stay mostly out of it. There are some references to "the defendant's stepsister" but nothing more. Andre's vanishing splashes across the headlines for say a few days — "Disgraced Businessman Flees Country" — and then it dies down.

The world moves on. As it always does.

Before I realize it, though, the hearing day is nigh.
Claire pleaded guilty—her lawyer told her she would receive a much longer sentence if she went to trial. But in exchange, she has to allocate which means naming her adversary and admitting to all the things she did in court.

And I’m entitled to submit a statement from the victim’s perspective.

Leo drives me to the courthouse, his hand solid and reassuring on my knee as I keep bouncing. "You don't have to do this," he tells me. "You can change your mind."

"I know. But I want to." I take a deep breath. "I need to." 

Inside, we’re sent to a courtroom. It’s tinier than the TV shows make it out to be—just a judge’s bench, a couple tables for attorneys, and a handful of seats. The only ones there: Judge, lawyers, court reporter, Detective Martinez, and few—
Claire.

She sits at the defense table in an orange jumpsuit, with her hair pulled back severely and no makeup. She appears smaller than I recall. Reduced.

When she sees me, something flashes across her face. Rage, perhaps? Or shame. I can’t tell and I don't care.

The procedure is rapid and impersonal. The judge asks Claire whether she understands the plea agreement. She says yes. Is she pleading guilty voluntarily? She says yes.

Then he tells her to allocute and describes what she did.

Claire stands, and her attorney reads from a prepared statement. “I, Claire Morrison, did knowingly and willfully impersonate Lisa Reed multiple times in an attempt to defraud investors and damage Ms. Reed’s reputation. I did so at the urging of my husband Andre Morrison, but wholly take responsibility for my actions. I regret the damage I caused deeply.”

But they are puny, robotic words. A legality, nothing more.

The judge looks at me. “Ms. Reed, you have an opportunity to make a victim impact statement. Do you want to?” Leo presses my hand before letting go. I rise, legs trembling, and walk toward the podium.

I have composed and recomposed what I wanted to say about a dozen times. But as I stand here, I look at Claire and all the words I've rehearsed disappear.

Instead, I talk from the heart. 

“Claire, three years ago, you had sex with my husband. You helped him tear our marriage apart. You took someone I loved and made him yours.” 

My voice is steady, stronger than I allowed myself to expect. “It took me two years of therapy to get over that betrayal. Learning to trust again. Learning I was not the problem, learning I didn’t deserve what happened to me.”

Claire won’t meet my eyes. She looks at the table straight ahead of her.

“Then, when I got happy again, when I actually put together a life I liked, you tried to take that away, too. You were me. You made people think I was lying, cheating, betraying the man I love. You almost ruined the best relationship I ever had.”

I pause, taking a breath.

“I want you to know you lost. You didn’t destroy me. You haven't destroyed my marriage. You strengthened, rather than weakened, us—if anything.” I lean forward slightly. “And I want to forgive you.”

That makes her look up.

“Not because you qualify,” I say still. “But because I am entitled to peace. I should be able to move forward without lugging around all this rage. I am now letting go of these feelings - very Paitweed but anyway I forgive you,  Claire. And I hope one day you can forgive yourself.”

I step back from the podium, and the judge nods at me. “Thank you Ms. Reed.”

Claire receives a prison term of eighteen months and three years probation. Restitution for her victims. Community service after release. It's less than half an hour long. 

It's like you blink and it's done.

As we head out, Claire's lawyer intercepts us in the hall. "My client wanted me to give you this."
He gives me an envelope. I looked fixedly at it, and felt an invincible repulsion from laying hold of it.

"It's not a magic trick," he tells me. "Just a letter. You can read it or not -- your choice."

Leo retrieves it for me, sliding it into his jacket pocket. "Thank you."

The bright sunshine seems too strong out in comparison to the gloomy courtroom. On the steps of the courthouse, I breathe in fresh air and feel an odd sense of lightness.

“What’s wrong, how are you?" Leo asks.

“Free,” I say with all sincerity. "I feel free."



I finally open Claire’s letter that night, at my house.

Leo is at my side, to snatch it away if it hurts, to catch me no matter what.

But the letter is surprisingly simple. And I'm in a particularly simple mood.

Lisa,
I'm sorry. For everything. You didn’t deserve any of it.
You were always the better person. The kinder sister. I was jealous of you for years — of how easily things seemed to come to you, how loved you were, how happy you seemed.

That doesn’t justify what I did. Nothing justifies that.
But I want you to know that I was so wrong. For everything.
I hope you find all the happiness you are entitled to.
Claire

I read it twice, then fold it back into the envelope.
"What do you think?" Leo asks carefully. 

"I think she means it." I put the letter down. "And I think it doesn't matter. She could be entirely honest and manipulative or she could be completely manipulative and honest, and in whatever case, it doesn't have any effect."

"How so?"

"Because I've already moved on. Forgive her. Already chosen peace instead of payback." I lean into him. “Her apology is for her, it’s not for me.”

"I'm happy. For how you handled today. For the way you’ve handled all this.”

"I couldn't have done it without you."

“Maybe he is the father,” Phoebe whispered, “maybe he could have.” “You're stronger than you know, Lisa,” he says softly. “You are and always have been.”

Maybe he's right. Maybe I am strong. Strong enough to survive betrayal. Strong enough to rebuild. Strong enough to forgive.
Strong enough to choose love over fear, over and over.

That night when—I think about revenge, that’s what I come back to as he holds me in the dark.
I could have pursued it. I might have wished for Claire to feel more pain, I might have wished for Andre to be caught and punished. Kept hold of my anger and fed it.

But what would that have done?

Claire is in prison. Andre is gone, his business destroyed, his reputation ruined. They’re paying for their choices.

And here I am, in bed with the man I love, planning a future that has nothing to do with them.
That’s the best revenge of all — living well. Being happy. Refusing to let them take one more second of my joy. 

Leo murmurs sleepily.

"I am happy" i say true enough. "How thankful I am that you came back."

"I'll be back," he promises. "Lisa, you're my home. That doesn't change."

I close my eyes and have never been so at peace in all these months.

Claire is in prison. Andre is gone. I’m finally, utterly behind the past.

And there is the future — our future — to which we can now look forward, brimming with possibilities.

I'm ready for it. We're ready for it.
Together.