Chapter 20 - The Compass Points True
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Three months later.
I stood on the balcony of my quiet oceanfront home in Malibu, watching the golden sun sink beneath the horizon of the Pacific Ocean.
The ocean breeze blew gently across my face, soothing the faint, faded scars near my jawline.
In my hands, I held the brass antique compass. I had spent weeks carefully restoring it—polishing the tarnished metal, setting a fresh glass cover over the dial, and fixing the delicate needle inside.
The needle swung smoothly, pointing true north once again.
My phone chimed on the small glass table beside me.
I looked down at the screen. It was an automated notification from the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office.
Victor’s trial was set to begin next week. Facing felony charges and overwhelming video evidence, his defense attorney had submitted a formal plea deal, begging for a reduced sentence in exchange for a full public confession and five years of mandatory community service in concrete labor.
Below the court notification sat a personal transcript of a voice message Victor had left from county jail earlier that afternoon:
“Mom... I know I don't deserve your voice. I know I broke everything. But I'm sitting in a cell with nothing left. No money, no friends, no Vanessa... just the memory of what I did to you. Please... just tell me if you'll ever come to see me.”
I picked up my phone and looked at the glowing screen.
Beside his message sat a second document sent by Arthur Langford ten minutes ago—a proposal to dissolve Hayes Legacy Holdings entirely and retire to a quiet life, or to expand the company into three new international markets.
May you like
I looked at the restored brass compass resting in my palm, watching the magnetic needle quiver gently between two very different directions.
I took a deep, quiet breath, placed my finger over the screen, and made my final decision.
