Chapter 7 - THE FALLOUT

The following months were a whirlwind of depositions, physical therapy, and rebuilding.
With Marcus behind bars without bail, Charles Vance completely dismantled his life. The offshore accounts were seized, and every dime of my stolen combat pay was returned with interest. The real estate agent Marcus had been sleeping with flipped on him immediately, handing over hundreds of incriminating text messages to avoid jail time herself.
Eleanor didn't fare much better. Her wealthy social circle in North Carolina abandoned her the second the indictment hit the news. The country club revoked her membership, and her friends pretended they had never met her.
But my biggest victory wasn't financial. It was physical.
I was at the VA clinic in Oakhaven three days a week. It was brutal, agonizing work. But every time I wanted to quit, every time my shattered leg refused to bear my weight, I remembered Marcus calling me a burden. I remembered Eleanor telling me I was broken.
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Spite is a powerful painkiller.
By Thanksgiving, I had traded my heavy crutches for a single, sleek cane.