— The DA’s office has the file. The title company has fired Vince. Now we wait.
The wait wasn’t long. The SUV was impounded a week later. The wholesaler, hearing about the legal trouble, backed out of the deal. The house deed was frozen; Sarah’s signature was found to be obtained under duress and fraud. The bank launched an internal investigation into the transfers. The IRS started looking into Linda’s “consulting firm” after Frank’s report. Vince was barred from the industry.
One day, Vince showed up at Bill’s office. He was shaking, his eyes bloodshot.
— I’m going to jail… This was my mother’s idea! I was just doing what she said! I’ll tell you everything, I’ll testify against them!
— Talk to the DA, — Bill said. — The door is that way.
Jake Carter published the full story on his blog: the timeline, the neighbor’s video, the shelter volunteer’s statement, the recordings of Linda. The post went viral locally. The people who had trashed Sarah on Facebook were now apologizing. The “Goncarenko” name—or rather, the Miller-Andrew name—was mud.
Linda, used to being respected and feared, found that neighbors crossed the street to avoid her. Her former colleagues stopped returning her calls. The “distinguished principal” was now a pariah.
Andrew was fired from his real estate firm. A realtor with a reputation for defrauding his own wife is unemployable. His friends vanished, and his phone went silent.
Months later, Sarah moved back into her house. The court restored everything. The car was returned. The money was being garnished from Andrew’s future earnings. She started working as a bookkeeper, first for her dad, then for her own clients.
Nathan grew into a sturdy toddler. His cheeks were rosy, and his laugh was loud. He took his first steps in the very house they had tried to steal from him. Sarah didn’t hide her face anymore. The divorce was finalized, and she took back her maiden name—Miller.
One Sunday evening, six months later, Dave was home alone. Sarah and Nathan were at a friend’s birthday party. He’d ordered a pizza and was dozing off in front of the game.
The doorbell rang. A delivery driver in a bright yellow vest stood there, holding a thermal bag and a smartphone. He was thin, unshaven, with a hollow look in his eyes…
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