Harvey picks up the folder.The sound of paper sliding feels final, like a door closing.
We start toward the door because as much as I want to watch the police taking my father away, I’m done with them.
My father’s voice follows me, snarling now, desperate.“You walk out that door and you’re done.”
I stop.
Not because I’m afraid.
Because the boy I used to be deserves to hear this out loud.
I turn back, meet his gaze, and let my words land clean.
“It’s an elevator ...not a door,” I explain, then add, “And I’ve been done.You just didn’t notice because you were too busy looking at yourself.”
My mother’s eyes burn with fury, threaded with something that might almost pass for grief if I believed she knew how to feel it without turning it into leverage.
“You’ll regret this.”
I laugh—soft, almost polite—and lift my hand in a small wave, like I’m leaving a dinner party instead of detonating their future.
“I don’t think you understand how regret works,” I say.“You’ll be busy learning that from a cell—and Harvey is making sure that youdon’tend up in the rich people jail.”
My father stiffens.My mother inhales sharply.
“This isn’t revenge,” I add, because they always assume cruelty where there’s finally accountability.“It’s restitution.Every person you crushed, every family you stole from, every parent who trusted you with their savings—you don’t get to walk away from that.”
I take a step back toward the elevator, already done with them.
“The money that’s left—what isn’t seized—goes into a fund. For the people you hurt.”
My mother’s voice cracks.“You can’t?—”
“I can,” I say calmly.“And I will.”
I glance at Harvey.He nods once.That’s all it takes.
I look at my parents one last time—not with anger, not with triumph.With something quieter.Finished.
“You taught me power is about control,” I say.“Turns out, it’s about responsibility.”
I turn without waiting for a reply.
The elevator doors are already open, waiting like they know I’ve earned this exit.Harvey and I walk in.As I feel the doors slide shut, I don’t feel triumphant.
I feel done.
And this time it’s over for good.Not because I’m heading to Canada hoping they’ll recruit me, but because I’ve cut the cord and said “fuck you” for good.
“Time to head home,” I sigh.
Harvey shakes his head.“You head home.I still have some more to do to ensure they don’t find a loophole and get out of jail.”
I smile.
“Try to sleep on your way back,” he suggests, patting his bag like the responsible one between us.
I shrug, sling mine over my shoulder, and flash him a grin that’s all teeth and no shame.“I might.Or I’ll just wait until I get home and let the missus and the mister fuck me unconscious.”
