Three days after the incident at the hotel, the morning sun broke over the high glass windows of the Vance Corporate Headquarters in downtown Chicago.
Arthur sat at the head of the dark mahogany boardroom table, wearing a dark navy suit. Beside him sat Clara and their chief corporate attorney, Marcus Vance.
Marcus: The judge signed the emergency court order two hours ago, Arthur. All estate trust accounts have been fully frozen and redirected to your primary control.
Arthur: What about the family mansion and the real estate properties in California?
Marcus: Reclaimed completely. Eleanor's name has been stripped from every deed, title, and corporate registration associated with the company.
Clara: How much money did she manage to drain from the main trust fund over the last five years?
Marcus: Roughly twelve million dollars. But because the federal government seized her private accounts, we'll recover at least ninety percent of those funds by next month.
Arthur: Good. Put five million straight into Leo's educational trust, and allocate the rest toward restoring our hotel staff wages.
Clara: What is Eleanor's final sentence looking like, Marcus?
Marcus: Given the overwhelming physical evidence of forgery, wire fraud, and child neglect charges, her legal team is attempting to negotiate a plea deal.
Arthur: No plea deals. We take this to full trial if necessary.
Marcus: The prosecutor agrees with you, Arthur. She's looking at a minimum of twenty-five years in federal prison without the possibility of early parole.
Clara took a slow, deep breath, looking out at the city skyline with a calm, peaceful smile spreading across her face.
Clara: Five years of hiding in the dark... it's finally over.
Arthur: It's over, Clara. Our family is whole again, and nobody will ever take what belongs to you ever again.
Marcus: There is one final matter on the board agenda today, Arthur.
Arthur: What matter is that, Marcus?
Marcus: The board of directors needs to officially elect the new Vice President of Operations for the Vance Hotel Group.
Arthur looked over at Clara, a warm smile lighting up his face as he pushed a set of executive documents across the polished table toward her.
Arthur: I think the decision is already made. What do you say, Clara? Ready to trade that grey hotel maid uniform for an executive suite?