Chapter 8 - The Verdict
Z
The jury took less than forty-five minutes to deliberate.
When the twelve men and women returned to the courtroom, their faces were stern, set in stone. The air in the room was so thick with anticipation that no one dared to breathe loudly.
"Has the jury reached a verdict?" Judge Bradley asked.
"We have, Your Honor," the foreperson, a tall woman with sharp glasses, replied, standing up and holding a white piece of paper.
"The defendant will please rise," Judge Bradley ordered.
Mason stood up, supported on either side by two armed officers. His knees were visibly shaking under his orange jumpsuit. He looked back at me one last time—a look filled with sheer, terrifying desperate pleading. He mouthing the words: Please, Victoria.
I looked straight back at him, my eyes like two chips of ice, and offered no response.
"Count One: Aggravated Wire Fraud," the foreperson read firmly. "Guilty."
A loud gasp echoed from Eleanor in the gallery.
"Count Two: Corporate Embezzlement over One Million Dollars," the foreperson continued. "Guilty."
"Count Three: Reckless Endangerment in the First Degree." "Guilty."
"Count Four: Conspiracy to Commit Corporate Sabotage." "Guilty."
"Count Five: Witness Tampering." "Guilty."
Guilty on all twenty-four counts of the federal indictment.
Mason dropped back into his chair as if his spine had been severed. He buried his face in his trembling hands, letting out a horrific, muffled groan of absolute defeat.
Judge Bradley adjusted her glasses and looked down at the disgraced former executive.
"Mr. Cardenas," Judge Bradley said, her voice dropping into a cold, lethal register. "In my twenty-five years on the federal bench, I have rarely encountered a defendant who demonstrated such a complete, breathtaking absence of human decency, morality, and honor."
She shuffled the sentencing papers in front of her.
"You betrayed a woman who offered you love, trust, and absolute support," Judge Bradley continued. "You left her bleeding after a major surgical procedure to indulge in base hedonism. You put the physical safety of hundreds of innocent citizens at risk out of pure, unadulterated greed. And you conspired with foreign entities to ruin the very person who pulled you out of obscurity."
She leaned forward over the bench.
"It is the sentence of this court that on Counts One through Ten, you shall serve fifteen years in federal custody. On Counts Eleven through Twenty, you shall serve fifteen years, to run consecutively. On Counts Twenty-One through Twenty-Four, you shall serve eight years."
Mason’s attorney jumped up. "Your Honor! That’s thirty-eight years!"
"Silence, counsel!" Judge Bradley snapped, her gavel coming down like a lightning strike. "The sentence stands. Thirty-eight years in a maximum-security federal penitentiary, without the possibility of parole before serving eighty-five percent of the term."
Thirty-eight years. Mason would be nearly seventy years old when he stepped foot out of a federal prison cell.
"Furthermore," Judge Bradley added, "a permanent, absolute order of protection is issued in perpetuity. Mr. Cardenas is stripped of all parental rights regarding the minor child, Emma Vance. He shall have no contact, directly or indirectly, with the child or the mother for the rest of his natural life. Court is adjourned."
CLANG!
The gavel struck the wooden block.
The courtroom erupted into a frenzy of shouting reporters and flashing camera lenses. Bailiffs immediately stepped forward, grabbing Mason by his arms to lead him out through the side door to the holding cells.
As he was being dragged away, Mason turned his head back toward me, tears streaming down his hollow, pale cheeks.
"Victoria!" he screamed, his voice cracking into a high-pitched, pathetic shriek. "Victoria, please! Don't let them take me! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Tell them to stop! I love you! Victoria!"
I didn't answer. I didn't say a word.
I stood up slowly, picking up my purse and securing Emma safely in her front baby carrier.
Behind me, Eleanor Cardenas stumbled out into the aisle, trying to reach for my dress as I walked past her.
"Victoria! Please!" Eleanor sobbed, falling onto her knees right on the courtroom floor, grabbing at the hem of my coat. "Have mercy! He’s my only son! He’ll die in prison! Look at your daughter! She has his blood! Forgive us!"
I stopped. I looked down at Eleanor, kneeling on the dirty carpet of the courtroom floor, sobbing in front of fifty news cameras.
"You told me giving birth to a girl meant I had no right to demand anything, Eleanor," I said softly, my voice cold and calm. "You told me a real heir had to be a boy."
I looked down at Emma, who reached up her small hand and grasped my thumb.
May you like
"My daughter is my heir," I said, looking back into Eleanor’s swollen, tear-filled eyes. "She inherits my strength, my name, and my empire. And you... you inherit the silence you left me in."
I stepped around her shaking body and walked out through the double doors into the bright, beautiful sunshine of New York City.
