The boy was screaming that something had b!tten him under his cast; his dad called him crazy… until the nanny tore it all open and found the syr!nge

The Cook County Courthouse was packed on the morning of the sentencing.

Lauren Vance sat at the defense table, wearing a orange jumpsuit, her wrists chained to her waist. Her sleek appearance was entirely gone; her hair was dull, her face hollowed out, her expression bitter and defiant.

Her high-priced defense attorney attempted to argue for leniency, citing psychological stress and an unstable upbringing, but the evidence presented by the prosecution was overwhelming.

The jury took less than forty-five minutes to return a verdict: Guilty on all counts.

The judge, a stern woman with decades on the bench, looked over her glasses at Lauren before delivering the sentence.

"Lauren Vance," the judge said, her voice echoing through the silent courtroom. "In my thirty years on the bench, I have rarely witnessed a crime of such calculated, cold-hearted cruelty. You targeted a grieving father, infiltrated a home, and inflicted systematic physical and psychological torture upon an innocent ten-year-old child for pure financial greed."

Lauren stared at the judge, her jaw clenched tight.

"You showed no remorse, no mercy, and no humanity," the judge continued. "Therefore, this court will show you none. On the counts of attempted murder and aggravated child abuse, I sentence you to thirty-eight years at the Logan Correctional Center, to be served consecutively. You will not be eligible for parole until you have served at least eighty-five percent of that sentence."

The courtroom gasped, followed by a quiet murmur of relief from the gallery.

Michael held Ethan’s hand tightly in the second row. Beside them, Miss Ruth smiled quietly, wrapping her arm around Ethan’s shoulders.

Lauren was stand up by the bailiffs to be led away through the side door.

As she walked past the gallery, she stopped for a brief second, locking eyes with Michael and Ethan. She looked for fear, for hurt, for any sign that she still held power over them.

But she found none.

Michael looked at her with calm, absolute indifference. Ethan looked at her, then slowly smiled, reaching up to squeeze his father’s hand.