Chapter 215: Final Justice
One month later. Federal Supreme Court.
"Camilla Covington, for treason, attempted murder, and money laundering, you are sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole."
Camilla sat in the defendant's chair, a ghost of her former self. Her hair was dull, and she wore a plain grey jumpsuit. When the verdict hit, she collapsed, screaming in despair.
"I was tricked! Ryan! Save me! I did it for you!"
The bailiffs dragged her away without a word. Richard, David, and a long list of accomplices followed. Meanwhile, Victor Lawrence was sentenced to twenty years. For a sick old man, it was a life sentence.
Outside the court, the sun was blinding. Evelyn stood on the steps, holding a newly signed document. It was the official exoneration of Madeleine Lawrence and the permit for the "Madeleine Lawrence Foundation for Victims of Violence."
"It’s over, Mom," Evelyn whispered to the sky.
A red sports car pulled up. Sophie hopped out, wearing sunglasses and holding the arm of Ethan, whose arm was still in a sling.
"Hey, genius!" Sophie laughed. "Congratulations. Your name is finally clear."
"What’s this?" Evelyn teased, nodding at their linked arms.
Ethan rubbed his neck, looking sheepish. "Well... Sophie said her new studio needed a consultant. Since I’m on medical leave..."
"Oh, stop it." Sophie rolled her eyes and pulled him closer. "We’re together."
Evelyn smiled. A real, honest smile. "I'm happy for you." She looked at Ethan. "I’ll need your help with the Foundation’s design project. We’re building a recovery center for traumatized kids."
"Leave it to us," Sophie promised. "I’ve already got the first draft of the blueprints."
Ethan looked at Evelyn, his eyes clear. "Be happy, Evelyn."
"I will."
A private cemetery on the outskirts of New York.
The autumn wind swept up fallen leaves. Evelyn held Elias’s hand, with Ryan by her side, as they stopped before a black marble headstone: Eleanor Worth.
Evelyn knelt and placed a bouquet of white lilies at the grave. "Grandma Eleanor, I’m back. I found the truth about my mother." She touched the photo of the kind woman on the stone. "The bad people were punished. I have a home now."
Elias pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. It was a drawing of a purple iris with four stick figures holding hands under a big sun. "Grandma, I made this," he said in his small voice. "I’m going to protect Mommy and the baby, just like Uncle Ryan."
Ryan picked Elias up and set him on his shoulders. "Rest easy, Eleanor," Ryan said softly. "You looked after her then. It’s my turn now. As long as I’m alive, no one will ever hurt them again."
The wind rustled the leaves, sounding like a soft reply. Evelyn stood up and took a deep breath. The weight on her chest was finally gone.
"Let’s go home," Ryan said, taking her hand.
But as they got into the car, Evelyn’s phone vibrated violently. It wasn't a call. It was a high-level security alert from the Nova Group's internal system.
[ALERT: CORE DESIGN DATABASE UNDER ATTACK!] [FIREWALL BREACHED! FILES BEING DOWNLOADED!] [SOURCE: DARK WEB NODE 'PHANTOM']
Then, an anonymous message popped up. No text. Just an animation of a black snake swallowing a blueprint. It was her unreleased core collection for the next season—the key to Nova Group's future.
Ryan slammed the brakes, his face dark. "It’s a remnant of the organization. Their lead hacker, 'Black Mamba'."
"Hold on."
Ryan pulled a U-turn, racing toward the Brooklyn Bridge.
"Give me the laptop." Evelyn snatched the tablet from the console. Ignoring the dizzying speed of the car, her fingers flew across the screen.
On the other end, the tech department was in a panic. "Boss, we can't stop him! He’s using multiple proxies. He’s shredding the files as he goes!"
"This isn't a normal virus," Evelyn muttered. Her eyes narrowed. "He’s deconstructing the data using garment-making logic. Lining first, then fabric... this hacker knows design."
"Can you track him?" Ryan asked.
"He’s looking for my core encryption layer." A lightbulb went off in Evelyn’s head. "Listen to me. Stop trying to block him. Open a back door and redirect all his traffic to the 'Midnight Paris' scrap folder!"
"What?" the tech director yelled over the phone.
"Do it!" Evelyn commanded. "My designs have a hidden color logic—my digital signature. If he takes that folder, I can lock onto his IP."
Five seconds later, a red dot appeared on a map of New York.
"Got him," Evelyn exhaled. "Brooklyn Navy Yard. Warehouse 4. It’s an old military lab."
Ryan floored the gas.