Chapter 13
The jury deliberated for four hours.
Kieran Harris: guilty on all counts. Conspiracy to commit murder. First-degree assault. Insurance fraud. Attempted murder by poisoning.
And, with the new evidence from the recorded call, a separate investigation was launched into my parents' deaths.
Serena—Sara Voss—turned state's witness before the verdict came in. She confessed to everything in exchange for a reduced sentence. She confirmed that Kieran had arranged the truck that killed my parents, making it look like an accident so he could isolate me further.
He'd taken everything from me—my parents, my eyes, my health, my trust—and he'd done it all with a smile and a wedding ring.
His sentencing came a month later.
Life in prison. No possibility of parole.
Mary drove me to the courthouse for that, too. I sat in the gallery and listened to the judge's words, feeling the finality of it settle into my bones.
Kieran spoke before sentencing. His voice was small, broken—nothing like the man who'd once commanded boardrooms.
"Ivy... I know you can't forgive me. But I need you to know—there was a time when I really did love you. Before the money, before everything—"
"No." My voice cut through the courtroom. "You don't get to say that. You don't get to rewrite this as a love story that went wrong."
"I—"
"You murdered my parents. You hired someone to blind me. You poisoned me for months. You planned my death for profit." My voice was steady—stone-cold steady. "That's not love that went wrong. That was never love at all."
The judge silenced him and delivered the sentence.
Life.
Mary squeezed my hand twice as they led him away.
-
After the trial, I spent time healing.
Real healing—not the kind where you pretend to be fine. The kind where you wake up screaming some nights, and that's allowed. The kind where you go to therapy three times a week and learn to say, "I was a victim and it wasn't my fault."
My trust fund was recovered—most of it. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life.
But money meant nothing. My vision didn't return.
The doctors tried three more procedures. None worked. The damage from Serena's sustained poisoning had caused permanent scarring that no surgery could reverse.
I was blind. Truly blind, this time. And it was permanent.
Some nights, I raged at the unfairness. I'd been given a miracle—two weeks of sight—and used every second of it to save my own life. But the miracle wasn't free. It had cost me everything my eyes had left.
I spent those two weeks gathering evidence instead of looking at sunrises.
I used my sight to destroy the man trying to kill me instead of watching the ocean or reading a book or simply enjoying the world's colors.
Was it worth it?
I was alive. He was in prison. My parents' murders were being investigated.
Yes. It was worth it.
But God, I missed the light.
Kieran Harris: guilty on all counts. Conspiracy to commit murder. First-degree assault. Insurance fraud. Attempted murder by poisoning.
And, with the new evidence from the recorded call, a separate investigation was launched into my parents' deaths.
Serena—Sara Voss—turned state's witness before the verdict came in. She confessed to everything in exchange for a reduced sentence. She confirmed that Kieran had arranged the truck that killed my parents, making it look like an accident so he could isolate me further.
He'd taken everything from me—my parents, my eyes, my health, my trust—and he'd done it all with a smile and a wedding ring.
His sentencing came a month later.
Life in prison. No possibility of parole.
Mary drove me to the courthouse for that, too. I sat in the gallery and listened to the judge's words, feeling the finality of it settle into my bones.
Kieran spoke before sentencing. His voice was small, broken—nothing like the man who'd once commanded boardrooms.
"Ivy... I know you can't forgive me. But I need you to know—there was a time when I really did love you. Before the money, before everything—"
"No." My voice cut through the courtroom. "You don't get to say that. You don't get to rewrite this as a love story that went wrong."
"I—"
"You murdered my parents. You hired someone to blind me. You poisoned me for months. You planned my death for profit." My voice was steady—stone-cold steady. "That's not love that went wrong. That was never love at all."
The judge silenced him and delivered the sentence.
Life.
Mary squeezed my hand twice as they led him away.
-
After the trial, I spent time healing.
Real healing—not the kind where you pretend to be fine. The kind where you wake up screaming some nights, and that's allowed. The kind where you go to therapy three times a week and learn to say, "I was a victim and it wasn't my fault."
My trust fund was recovered—most of it. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life.
But money meant nothing. My vision didn't return.
The doctors tried three more procedures. None worked. The damage from Serena's sustained poisoning had caused permanent scarring that no surgery could reverse.
I was blind. Truly blind, this time. And it was permanent.
Some nights, I raged at the unfairness. I'd been given a miracle—two weeks of sight—and used every second of it to save my own life. But the miracle wasn't free. It had cost me everything my eyes had left.
I spent those two weeks gathering evidence instead of looking at sunrises.
I used my sight to destroy the man trying to kill me instead of watching the ocean or reading a book or simply enjoying the world's colors.
Was it worth it?
I was alive. He was in prison. My parents' murders were being investigated.
Yes. It was worth it.
But God, I missed the light.