On the second day, I contacted my lawyer. We built an irrefutable case: witness statements, medical reports, physical evidence, confessions. I demanded swift mediation.
The amount was clear: $900,000.
Enough to cover my medical expenses, lost income, emotional distress, and future care. Enough to bankrupt Sloane without it seeming excessive.
During mediation, my parents tried to downplay the situation, talking about « family » and forgiveness. I refused. Calmly. Definitely.
Sloane had a choice: settle amicably or risk eight years in prison. She signed. My parents did too, as guarantors.
I left that room without looking back.
A year later, I stand in my own library-workshop, a light-filled former warehouse. My conservation business employs two assistants. The shelves are filled with old volumes undergoing restoration.
The money from the transaction was the starting point. Not an emotional victory. A reparation.
Magnus Thorne entrusted me with his entire family’s historical archives. This contract launched my career on a scale I could never have imagined.
I restore what deserves to be restored. And I eliminate what is toxic.
When my lawyer informed me that the final payment had been received, I felt neither triumph nor joy. Only calm.
I sat down at my desk, put on my gloves, and opened a 16th – century manuscript. Fragile. Precious. Salvageable.
For the first time in my life, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
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