“Mr. Hamilton is in a meeting and cannot take calls from... this origin.”
I drop my voice. Taking a deep breath, knowing I’m lucky the call was even accepted.
“Listen carefully. I don’t know if you’re new or just stupid, but you’re going to do exactly what I say. You will tell your boss that Maya Fisher is on the line. And you will tell him he can either accept this call now—or I’ll use every remaining minute to talk to anyone who’ll listen about my affair with the former president of the same company that’s currently signing your paychecks.”
“One moment,” he says finally.
Hold music fills the line. The seconds drag on.
“Ms. Fisher,” Jonathan’s voice finally comes through. It sounds as cold and controlled as I remember. “Whatever you think you’re doing—”
“Relax,” I interrupt. “I’m not threatening you. I’m inviting you to a...friendlyconversation. And I don’t have much time, so you’re going to listen.”
I can almost feel the balance shift.
“Paris,” I say. “Last August.”
I stop there. His breathing falters. His hesitation tells me everything I need to know.
“What do you want?” he asks, his tone less certain now.
I close my eyes and rest my forehead on the cold metal of the phone. “You’ll come see me this week. Some things shouldn’t be discussed on a monitored line. Bring a competent lawyer, Jonathan. A criminal one.”
I exhale and almost dare to smile.
“We have a lot to discuss.”
October
There’s no audience or drama here. Just the sound of papers shuffling.
Eight months. Eight months since I walked through doors that only open inward. And to think I believed that with the expensive lawyer Jonathan so…generouslysecured for me, this would resolve itself in the blink of an eye.
An arrogant miscalculation. Money accelerates certain processes, but the law keeps its own time. It doesn’t move faster for people like me.
It was easier to endure each day believing I was, at least technically, closer to escaping that place.
The judge adjusts his glasses and goes over the papers, reading and then looking back to check something again. When he finally looks up at me, I can’t read his expression.
“Maya Fisher.”
Hearing my own name feels weird these days. Like it doesn’t even belong to me anymore.
“The court acknowledges that the defendant has remained in federal custody for approximately eight months pending resolution of this matter.”
He waits a second before speaking.
“That period was not insignificant.”
My attorney doesn’t react. He already knows what’s coming. I hold my breath anyway.
“The evidence demonstrates that while the defendant’s actions constitute serious federal offenses, the direct financial impact was mitigated. There was no corporate collapse. No systemic market risk.”
“The court has also reviewed the reports submitted by the defense.”
My stomach twists into a knot.
“These evaluations indicate that the defendant began therapeutic treatment during her period of custody and has demonstrated awareness of rigid behavioral patterns and defense mechanisms that contributed to her decision-making. This does not absolve the defendant of criminal responsibility, but it is relevant to the assessment of recidivism risk.”
