Chapter 7 - Eighteen MonthsDeclan Mercer pleaded guilty to racketeering, bribery, financial crimes, and the unlawful killing of Marcus Vale.
The city exploded.
Newspapers printed his face for weeks.
Politicians denied knowing him.
Three resigned.
Two were indicted.
Victor Sloane was arrested.
His organization fractured.
Mercer Holdings lost contracts.
Banks froze accounts.
Board members fled.
The empire did not collapse in one dramatic explosion.
It bled out through paperwork.
Audrey watched from a distance.
She attended Declan’s sentencing.
She sat in the second row.
Not beside his attorneys.
Not with Mercer executives.
Alone.
Declan turned once before the judge entered.
Their eyes met.
He smiled.
Barely.
The judge sentenced him to eighteen years.
Audrey stopped breathing.
With cooperation and credit for evidence, his attorneys believed he might serve considerably less.
But eighteen years was the number spoken aloud.
Eighteen.
Audrey was twenty-nine.
She imagined herself at forty-seven.
The thought terrified her.
Declan did not look at her again.
He knew.
Love was not a prison sentence she had agreed to serve.
Three days later, Audrey received a letter.
She recognized his handwriting.
She did not open it for six hours.
Finally, sitting on the green bench beside the community garden, she broke the seal.
Audrey,
Do not wait for me.
I know you will hate that sentence.
You will say I am making another decision for you.
Maybe I am.
So let me phrase it differently.
Live.
Choose whatever comes next.
If there is another man someday, I will hate him with extraordinary discipline.
But I will not punish you for choosing a life I cannot give you.
You taught me that love without freedom is ownership.
I refuse to own you again.
D.
Audrey read the letter three times.
Then she cried.
Then she became furious.
She wrote back.
Declan,
You arrogant idiot.
You do not get to decide whether I wait.
You finally learned the lesson and somehow still failed the exam.
I am not promising eighteen years.
I am not promising eighteen months.
I am promising Tuesday.
Next Tuesday, I will visit.
After that, I will decide again.
That is how choice works.
A.
She visited Tuesday.
Then the next Tuesday.
Then another.
The first six months were difficult.
Prison stripped Declan of every symbol of power.
No tailored suits.
No private office.
No driver.
No ring.
He became Mercer, inmate number 41726.
Audrey expected him to hate it.
He did.
But something else happened.
He began teaching financial literacy classes.
The idea came from another inmate who discovered Declan understood tax structures.
“Apparently criminals appreciate accountants,” Declan told Audrey during a visit.
“You are a criminal accountant.”
“I was more diversified.”
Audrey smiled.
He smiled back.
After one year, prosecutors reopened parts of his case because of his cooperation.
Evidence he provided dismantled Sloane’s network and exposed several corrupt officials.
The government reduced portions of his sentence.
Then a legal review discovered misconduct in the original Vale investigation.
Not enough to erase Declan’s guilt.
Enough to alter the sentencing structure.
After eighteen months in custody, Declan became eligible for a supervised release program while appeals continued.
Audrey received the call on a Thursday.
She was at the antique shop.
Elias had rebuilt it.
Actually, Audrey had.
She was now a partner.
The business had expanded into estate restoration.
They employed four people.
Audrey had her own office.
A tiny one.
No glass walls.
She loved it.
Her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Miss Collins?”
“Yes.”
“This is Daniel Reeves from the Federal Reentry Office.”
Her heart stopped.
“Mr. Mercer listed you as an emergency contact.”
Of course he had.
“He’s being released tomorrow.”
Audrey sat down.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“He requested that we not contact you until everything was final.”
Audrey closed her eyes.
Still an idiot.
“Thank you.”
She hung up.
Elias looked over.
“Well?”
Audrey stood.
“I need tomorrow off.”
The prison gate opened at 9:07 a.m.
Declan walked out carrying a cardboard box.
Audrey almost laughed.
The first time she left his office, she had carried one.
Now it was his turn.
He looked different.
Leaner.
More gray in his hair.
A small scar near his temple.
But his eyes were the same.
He stopped when he saw her.
Audrey leaned against her car.
A used blue sedan.
Declan stared at it.
“You bought a car.”
“That’s your first sentence?”
“It’s terrible.”
Audrey laughed.
He closed his eyes briefly.
That sound.
Still.
After eighteen months.
“You’re not allowed to insult my car.”
“I believe freedom of speech survived my incarceration.”
“Get in.”
He walked toward her.
Then stopped.
Approximately three feet away.
“May I hug you?”
Audrey’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
Declan wrapped his arms around her.
For a few seconds, Audrey remained controlled.
Then she broke.
She buried her face against his chest.
His body shook.
Neither spoke.
When they separated, Declan touched her cheek.
“You changed your hair.”
“You got old.”
“I was in prison.”
“Excuses.”
He laughed.
A real laugh.
Audrey had almost forgotten the sound.
They drove into the city.
Declan stared through the window.
Everything had changed.
Mercer Holdings still existed, but the criminal network was gone.
A court-appointed board controlled most operations.
Gideon had become head of corporate security.
Maria was now chief administrative officer.
She had apparently transformed the forty-second floor.
Audrey knew because Maria sent photographs.
Plants.
Warm lighting.
A coffee machine.
Declan looked horrified.
“She put plants in my office?”
“Former office.”
“Cruel.”
Audrey drove past the building.
Declan did not ask her to stop.
Instead, she took him to the community garden.
The green bench was still there.
They sat.
Two feet apart.
Exactly like the beginning.
Declan looked at the distance.
“Are we starting over?”
“Yes.”
His face fell slightly.
Audrey smiled.
“Did you think you could spend eighteen months in prison and immediately move into my bedroom?”
“I hoped civilization had advanced.”
“It hasn’t.”
He looked toward the garden.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Audrey had expected the question.
“No.”
Relief appeared instantly.
She pointed at him.
“Control your face.”
“I’m trying.”
“Were you hoping I’d remain celibate forever?”
“Yes.”
“Declan.”
“You asked for honesty.”
She laughed.
He looked at her.
Then his expression became serious.
“I meant the letter.”
“I know.”
“If you had found someone—”
“I know.”
“It would have destroyed me.”
“I know.”
“But I would have accepted it.”
Audrey reached across the distance.
Took his hand.
“That is why there wasn’t someone else.”
Declan looked at their hands.
“Not because I waited.”
She continued.
“Because I kept choosing Tuesday.”
His fingers tightened gently.
They sat there for twenty minutes.
Then thirty.
Then an hour.
When Audrey finally stood, Declan followed.
“Where are you staying?”
“Halfway residence.”
“For how long?”
“Six months.”
“You hate that.”
“Profoundly.”
“Good.”
He frowned.
“Why is my suffering entertaining?”
“It builds character.”
“I have enough character.”
“You have trauma and expensive vocabulary.”
“That seems unnecessarily specific.”
Audrey smiled.
Then she kissed him.
Briefly.
In daylight.
In public.
No fear.
No debt.
When she stepped back, Declan looked almost stunned.
“That,” Audrey said, “was for surviving.”
“And the next one?”
“You’ll have to earn it.”
May you like
Declan smiled.
He understood the rules now.
