Chapter 3 - The War Room
At seven o'clock the following morning, I woke to the scent of fresh coffee and toasted brioche drifting into the bedroom.
Josie and Willa were already awake, sitting on the floor in front of the roaring fireplace, wearing soft pink cotton pajamas that Mrs. Gable had provided. They were happily coloring in large storybooks while eating strawberry pancakes off silver trays.
For the first time in three years, there was no panic in my chest when I opened my eyes. No checking the window locks. No fear of a heavy fist pounding on the apartment door.
I showered, washed the scent of fear from my hair, and put on a navy cashmere sweater and tailored trousers that had been neatly laid out in the dressing room—fitted perfectly to my size.
Leaving the girls under the watchful, affectionate eye of Mrs. Gable, I walked down the grand oak staircase toward the main study where Adrian had indicated we would meet.
The double mahogany doors were open. Inside, a long glass conference table was covered with monitors, legal briefs, and coffee cups.
Four people stood around the table: Adrian, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit; Vance, his head of security; a sharp-eyed woman in her late forties wearing a sharp pinstripe suit; and an elderly gentleman with silver hair wearing a bespoke three-piece tweed suit.
"Camille," Adrian said, stepping away from the table as I walked in. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"
"Better than I have in years," I admitted, giving him a small, grateful smile.
"This is Sarah Sterling, my chief legal counsel," Adrian introduced the pinstriped woman, who offered me a warm, firm handshake. "And this is Judge Harrison Vance—no relation to my security chief—formerly of the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals."
"Miss Ashford," Judge Vance said, bowing his head respectfully. "It is an honor. Your father was a fine man."
"Please, sit down," Sarah Sterling said, gesturing to a leather chair at the head of the table. "We have forty minutes before Travis Ashford's arraignment at the Leighton Criminal Court Building."
I sat down, my hands clasped in my lap. "What is the plan?"
Sarah opened a sleek tablet, projecting a document onto the main screen. "Travis's defense attorney, Richard Cole, filed an emergency motion at six AM this morning requesting immediate release on personal recognizance, claiming Travis was the victim of an unprovoked assault by Mr. Moretti."
I felt a cold flash of anxiety. "His uncle..."
"His uncle, Judge Thomas Ashford, attempted to contact the presiding magistrate, Judge Elena Gomez, three times last night," Sarah continued with a sharp, victorious smile. "What Judge Ashford did not know is that Federal Bureau of Investigation agents were intercepting his phone lines under a federal corruption warrant we initiated seventy-two hours ago."
I gasped, looking at Adrian in shock. "You had the FBI tap a sitting judge's phone?"
"We provided the Special Agent in Charge with undeniable evidence of judicial bribery," Adrian explained calmly, taking a sip of dark coffee. "Judge Ashford accepted two hundred thousand dollars last month to drop extortion charges against a real estate developer. When he called Judge Gomez last night to demand Travis's release, he walked directly into a federal trap."
"At nine AM today," Sarah added, her eyes gleaming with sharp legal intelligence, "when Travis’s attorney steps up to request bail, Federal Marshals will enter the courtroom and arrest Judge Thomas Ashford right off his bench in Courtroom 402."
I sat frozen, staring at the screen. For three agonizing years, Judge Thomas Ashford had been an invincible wall of corruption, insulating Travis from every legal consequence, making me feel as though the law itself was my enemy.
In less than twenty-four hours, Adrian Moretti had dismantled that wall entirely.
"What about Travis?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
"With his uncle in federal custody, Travis loses his political protection," Sarah said firmly. "We are filing aggravated assault, felony choking, child endangerment, and felony violation of an order of protection. Under Illinois law, given the video evidence from the supermarket, he is facing six to twelve years in state prison without eligibility for early parole."
I buried my face in my hands, letting out a long, shuddering breath. The suffocating weight that had rested on my chest for years—the constant, grinding terror that Travis would eventually kill me or take my daughters—finally began to dissolve.
"Thank you," I choked out, tears warm against my palms. "Thank you..."
I felt a large, warm hand rest gently on my shoulder. I looked up to see Adrian standing beside my chair.
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"You don't need to thank us, Camille," Adrian said softly, his grey eyes locked onto mine with a steady, quiet strength. "You fought for three years to protect your daughters alone. All we did was give you the shield you should have had from the beginning."
He extended his hand to me. "The car is waiting. I want you to sit in that courtroom today and watch him realize that his reign over your life is over."
