“Was all of this planned?”
She paused but did not turn around.
There was a beat of silence.
“No,” she said.
Another beat.
“This is the result of what you chose.”
Then she walked out.
The cameras waiting outside surged forward the moment the doors opened, and flashes burst across the courthouse steps in white staccato interruptions. Reporters shouted questions over one another.
“Ms. Vance, did you conceal your identity from investors?”
“Are criminal charges being filed?”
“Ms. Vance, is the company yours?”
“Ms. Vance, how long did you know about the affair?”
Eleanor did not answer any of them. She guided the boys down the steps with one hand on each small shoulder, shielding them without seeming frantic. A black car waited at the curb, driven by a man in his sixties whose face gave nothing away. He stepped out, opened the rear door, and the twins climbed in.
Only when the door closed behind them did Eleanor allow herself the smallest pause.
She stood with one gloved hand resting on the frame of the car and closed her eyes for a single breath.
Not relief alone.
Release.
Then she got in, and the car moved.