Part 2 The Secret in the Prosthetic

CHAPTER 20: The Unbroken Stride

Spring broke over the city in a wave of vibrant green.

The courthouse steps were crowded with reporters, cameras, and onlookers. It was the morning of the verdict. Richard Vance’s trial had lasted six grueling weeks, a highly publicized dismantling of corporate greed that had captivated the nation. Every dark secret, every compromised safety report, had been dragged kicking and screaming into the light.

The jury had deliberated for less than eight hours.

I stood at the bottom of the grand marble steps, waiting. I hadn't gone inside for the reading of the verdict. Sarah had wanted to face him alone in the courtroom.

The heavy brass doors at the top of the steps swung open. A wave of noise erupted from the press pool as the prosecutors walked out, but my eyes were entirely focused on the figure emerging behind them.

Sarah walked out into the sunlight.

She was wearing a sharp, impeccably tailored charcoal suit. The right leg of the trousers was cropped just below the knee, unapologetically revealing the matte black carbon fiber and gleaming titanium of her prosthetic.

She didn't look down at the steps. She didn't look at the flashing bulbs of the cameras or the reporters shouting her name. She looked straight ahead, her posture perfect, her chin held high.

I knew the verdict before she even reached the bottom of the steps. It was written in the absolute tranquility of her face. Guilty on all counts.

The crowd parted for her, a sea of people yielding to the undeniable gravity she possessed. As she walked toward me, the ambient noise of the city seemed to fade away. All I could hear was the rhythm of her walk.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

It was no longer the sound of a woman struggling to adapt to a broken body. It was no longer the sound of a victim. It was the steady, unstoppable drumbeat of a woman who had walked through hell, burned the devil’s house to the ground, and emerged entirely whole.

She reached me at the bottom of the steps. She didn't say a word about Vance or the trial. She didn't have to.

"Are you ready?" I asked, offering her my arm.

Sarah looked past the courthouse, past the reporters, and out toward the city where her new firm was already setting down roots. She smiled—a real, unburdened smile that reached all the way to her eyes.

She bypassed my offered arm, reaching down to weave her fingers firmly through mine instead. We weren't leaning on each other anymore. We were walking side by side.