Chapter 5 - The Depths of Winter
Three months passed.
Chicago was buried under a brutal January freeze. Deep snow piled up along the city streets, and howling winds blew off Lake Michigan, dropping temperatures well below zero.
In a small, windowless office inside the Cook County District Court building, Richard sat across a wooden desk from a court-appointed public defender named Sarah Lin.
Richard looked completely unrecognizable. He had lost twenty pounds. His face was thin and hollow, his silver hair unkempt, and he wore a cheap, bulky winter coat he had bought from a local thrift store with the last of his cash.
"Mr. Sullivan," Sarah Lin said, reviewing a thick legal file. "The civil lawsuit filed by Apex Holdings has officially concluded. Because you offered no legal defense and could not afford private counsel, the court entered a default judgment against you in the amount of forty-two million dollars."
Richard didn't even flinch. Numbers no longer meant anything to him. Forty-two million or forty-two billion was the same thing when you had twelve dollars in your checking account.
"What about my criminal status?" Richard asked hoarsely, his voice raspy from a lingering winter cold.
"The federal prosecutors have agreed not to file criminal fraud charges," Sarah replied, looking at him with a mix of pity and sternness. "Mrs. Sullivan explicitly requested that the Department of Justice decline prosecution. She stated that she had no desire to see you sent to federal prison."
Richard let out a dry, bitter laugh. "How generous of her. She takes my life, my reputation, my money, and leaves me to rot in a gutter instead."
"She didn't leave you in a gutter, Mr. Sullivan," Sarah said sharply, closing the file. "She left you with your freedom. Which is far more than you deserve, considering the paper trail of corporate tax evasion you left behind."
Sarah reached into her drawer and pulled out an envelope.
"This came for you yesterday from Mrs. Sullivan’s office."
Richard took the envelope. He opened it slowly, expecting another legal demand or a cruel message.
Inside was a simple train ticket to a small town in southern Illinois, along with a business card for a regional logistics warehouse called Midwest Distribution Services.
Written on the back of the card was a note in Maggie’s handwriting:
They are hiring night-shift dock workers. It pays eighteen dollars an hour. If you want to survive, Richard, you need to learn how to work with your hands again.
Richard stared at the train ticket, his throat tight, his mind torn between blinding pride and sheer survival instinct.
May you like
He had no money left for his motel room. His prepaid phone was out of minutes. If he didn't take the train, he would be sleeping on a bench at Union Station in fifteen-degree weather by nightfall.
He swallowed his pride, folded the ticket, and placed it inside his pocket.
