Chapter 24
Two months later, the aggressive, overwhelming media circus surrounding the Langford syndicate had finally begun to cool down, replaced by the slow, methodical grind of the federal justice system. Everett sat in the polished, pristine boardroom of a major philanthropic law firm in downtown Manhattan, surrounded by a team of high-powered estate attorneys.
Spread across the massive oak table were the final legal documents dissolving the Langford family trust.
"Are you absolutely certain you want to proceed, Mr. Langford?" the lead attorney asked, adjusting his silver glasses. "Even after paying the massive federal fines and compensating the victims of the syndicate’s international operations, there is still nearly four hundred million dollars of legitimate, clean assets remaining in the trust. You are legally entitled to this money."
Everett looked out the towering glass windows at the bustling city below. He thought about the freezing Maine woods, the smell of gunpowder, and the absolute terror in his son's eyes. He knew with profound certainty that there was no such thing as "clean" money when it came to the Langford name. The wealth was a poison, a curse that had cost his grandmother her life and nearly destroyed his entire family.
"I am completely certain," Everett stated without a single ounce of hesitation. "I want every single remaining cent liquidated and transferred into the victim restitution fund we established with Sloane Avery. I do not want a single dollar of that money attached to my name, or my son's name, ever again."
The attorney nodded respectfully, sliding the final document across the table. Everett clicked his pen and signed his name with a fluid, confident stroke.
As he placed the pen down, he felt a massive, invisible weight physically lift off his chest. For his entire life, he had been entirely defined by the immense wealth and power of his family. Now, he was completely broke by billionaire standards, holding only a modest personal savings account from his own career.
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And he had never, ever felt richer.
He walked out of the boardroom, stepping into the elevator. When he reached the lobby, he didn't call a private driver or a security detail. He hailed a yellow cab, giving the driver the address of a small, quiet suburb in upstate New York where Maren and Bennett were waiting for him. The empire was gone, and he was finally free.
