Afterwards four of the attorneys addressed the jury, in some cases movingly, and Alex thought Phillip's speech was very clear, and stated the facts clearly. It emphasized what Sam himself had said on the witness stand, that between his wife's illness and his own foolishness, he had allowed himself to be lulled into thinking that what was going on was ethical when it wasn't. But the key was that he didn't know what the others were doing. He had never knowingly defrauded anyone, or been a party to what had happened. He had never knowingly been part of their collusion.

The jury took five days to deliberate, and called for evidence and testimony. They recalled everything they could, and then finally, it was over. Sam and the others sat looking very pale and were asked to stand when the jury entered the courtroom. Alex noticed that Simon tried to look contemptuous, but he was too pale for anyone to buy it. Just like the others, he was scared stiff, and the only one Alex felt sorry for was Sam. And poor little Annabelle. What if her Daddy went to prison? Someone at her school had told her about it, and Sam and Alex had tried to explain it to her simply, but it was much too confusing. And no, they didn't know if he was going away or not, but they hoped not. It had been a lousy resolution.

The foreman was a woman in this case, and she called out their verdicts loudly and clearly. They began with Tom, and named each of the thirteen charges against him, and to each of them she responded with a single word. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. It droned on eternally, and again the same with Larry, and with Simon. There was a huge stir in the courtroom, and the press was going wild as the judge rapped his gavel furiously and called everyone to order.

And then it was Sam's turn, and this time, the verdict was “not guilty” to all the charges of embezzlement, but to all the charges relating to fraud, and conspiracy to commit fraud, he was found guilty. Alex sat rooted to the spot, as she looked at him. He stood very quietly, listening to the judge, who was saying that they were to return thirty days from that date for sentencing, and he would take their cases, and their probation reports, under advisement until then. They were each being released on five-hundred-thousand-dollars bail, which meant a fifty-thousand-dollar bond, which Sam had put up for himself as soon as he was arrested. And then the judge reminded each of them that they were not to leave the state or country. He then rapped his gavel, and dismissed the court, and there was an instant uproar. Photographers flashed photographs of all of them and Alex had to fight to get where Sam was standing with Phillip.

Sam looked like he was in shock when she got to him, and there were tears in his eyes, understandably. Larry's and Tom's wives were sobbing openly, but she said nothing to them. And Simon left the courtroom almost immediately with his lawyer.

“I'm so sorry, Sam,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear her, as someone took their picture.

“Let's get out of here,” he said miserably, and she leaned over to Phillip then to ask him if he needed to talk to his client, but he shook his head. He was very disappointed by the verdict. Now all their efforts would be to reduce sentencing, but there was little chance of that now. Sam was going to prison.

She followed him outside, as news cameras and microphones were shoved into their faces, and finally they darted through the crowd and into a cab before anyone could stop them.

“Are you all right?” she asked him. He looked terrible, and she was suddenly worried he'd have a heart attack or a stroke. At fifty that wasn't completely impossible, although it was unlikely.

“I don't know. I think I'm numb. I kept telling myself I expected it, but I guess I didn't …let's go to the Carlyle.”

But at the hotel, they found reporters waiting for him. They went around to the Madison Avenue side, and hurried in, and he asked her if she'd come upstairs with him for a few minutes. And once there, he called room service and ordered drinks for both of them. Scotch for him, and coffee for her. She wasn't a drinker.

“I don't know what to say,” Alex said honestly, she was bereft of words. All she had left were feelings. Grief for him, and Annabelle who was about to lose her father, for twenty years or more. It was impossible to think of.

It was going to be hard on everyone until sentencing, but now they just had to live through it. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked helplessly. She felt almost as helpless as he had when he found out she had cancer. There was nothing she could do to change it.

“Take good care of Annabelle,” he said, and then burst into tears. He sat with his face in his hands for a long time, sobbing, and she said nothing, and walked over to him and gently held his shoulders. When room service came, she signed for it, and brought the tray in herself, and handed him the Scotch. He took it gratefully, and apologized for his lack of composure.

“Don't be silly, Sam. It's all right,” she said gently, touching his shoulder. But there was nothing they could do. He had been found guilty, and he'd have to go to prison. They knew that.

He took a sip of his drink and looked at her. “It can't have felt any better when they told you you had cancer.”

“It didn't,” she confirmed, and then smiled sadly. “But I'd rather have chemotherapy than go to jail.”

He laughed cynically at what she'd said, and took another swig of Scotch. “Thanks. I don't think they're offering the option.”

“Believe me, you wouldn't like it.”

“I remember that,” he said sorrowfully, feeling grim at how he had failed her. “My God, you were sick. I kept blocking it out because I couldn't stand it. I even let Daphne help me do it. She kept feeling sorry for me instead of you, and I agreed with her completely. We were really nice people. Mr. and Miss Terrific.” He looked into Alex's eyes, grateful beyond words that she had survived it.

“Have you heard from her?” she asked out of curiosity, and he shook his head.

“Not a word, the little dear. I'm sure she's moved on to greener pastures. She'll fall on her feet, wherever she is. Daphne's a smart girl, when it comes to Daphne.” And then he looked at his wife with an expression of immeasurable sadness. “Why are you here? You shouldn't be by now.” It was true, but she was a faithful sort and they both knew that. Besides, Brock was right. Eighteen years had woven a powerful bond between them.

“I loved you for a long time. It's hard to forget that,” she said honestly, no longer afraid that he would hurt her. She knew he couldn't. She was too far removed now.

“You'd better forget it soon,” Sam said. “Thirty days. I'll file before that, by the way. I'm sure your young lawyer friend will be relieved. The poor guy looks daggers at me everytime he sees me. Tell him he can relax now, I'm going.” She smiled at the irony of his words. They knew each other well. He had finally figured out who Brock was. Though he'd been a lot slower than she had been in figuring out Sam's relationship to Daphne. But there were no secrets between them now. “Isn't he a little young for you?” There was a hint of jealousy in his voice when he asked, which reminded her of Brock and made her smile. They were both being silly.

“I say that to him every day, but he's very stubborn.” Alex smiled, thinking of Brock. “He was incredible to me when I was sick. He spent the first five months with me throwing up on the bathroom floor of my office before he ever invited me anywhere.”

“He's a good man,” Sam said fairly. “I wish I'd been decent enough to do that.” And then he thought of the result of the trial again, and shrugged unhappily. “Maybe it's just as well I didn't stick by you. I don't want to take you down with me on this. You need your freedom.”

“So do you,” she said gently.

“Tell it to the judge,” he said, and stood up. He knew he had no right to keep her any longer, and it only made him feel worse to be near her. It was so obviously over for her, it was hard being around her. “Tell Annabelle I'll come by tomorrow to pick her up. I want to do lots of things with her this month.” He only had one month of freedom left, probably, and he was going to spend it all with her. He would have liked to spend it with Alex too, but he would never have asked that. He knew he couldn't.

Alex was sad when she went home to Annabelle that night, and Brock called to say he had seen it on the news and was sorry. He was working late, and he'd come over in a while, but when he did, Alex was irritated by his attitude about Sam. He was supercilious and overtly pleased that Sam had been convicted. He said that Sam had messed up his life in every way possible, and basically deserved what had happened.

“I think twenty years in jail might be a pretty high price for his mess, wouldn't you say? Who the hell hasn't made mistakes? He was stupid and self-centered, and naively trusting of his partners, but he doesn't deserve to lose everything, nor does Annabelle because of his mistakes. She needs her father.”

“He should have thought of that before he went into business with Simon. Hell, Alex, the guy was obvious. You said so yourself,” and she couldn't disagree. She had never trusted Simon. But Sam had, much to his chagrin now.

The next day when Sam came by to pick up Annabelle, looking drained, Alex thought that Brock was unnecessarily unpleasant to him, and after Sam left with Annabelle, she said so. “The guy's got enough on his plate without your being rude to him on top of it.” It was rare for them to fight, but for Alex, it was an issue of loyalty and kindness.

“I was not rude, I was cool, there's a distinct difference.”

“You weren't cool, Brock,” she said, feeling like his mother, scolding him. “You were nasty, that's different. It could have happened to any of us. He was swept away by a glamorous crowd, who were out to use him. Are you so sure you're invulnerable to that?” she asked him pointedly, and he insisted it could never happen to him, but Alex knew better. But it was her attitude that worried Brock. He didn't like the things she said, or the way she said them.

“Why are you defending him?” he asked, looking suddenly worried. “Are you still in love with him?” His eyes bore into hers. He was the prosecutor and she was the defendant.

“I don't think so,” she said honestly, wanting to be fair to both of them. “I care about him. I'm sorry about what happened.”

“Don't you think he deserved it?” Brock pressed. They were alone in her apartment after Annabelle had left with Sam, and Brock wasn't going to let go of the issues. He wanted to know what she was feeling.

“No, I don't think he deserved it,” Alex said sadly. “It's right for him to lose his business, and his job … his standing in the community …even his reputation. He was foolish, he hurt a lot of people by being blind to what the others were doing. But he shouldn't go to prison for that, Brock, no more than he should for failing me …it's not right. I just don't think he deserves that.”

“You're too soft,” Brock said, watching her carefully, and then slowly he went to her, and put his arms around her. “I guess that's why I love you,” and then he closed his eyes and pulled her so tightly against him she could hardly breathe. “I don't want to lose you, that's all. That's what this is all about for me … I keep hearing what you're saying about him, and seeing something in your eyes that still hurts for him. It's not over yet, no matter what you say. He still lives in your heart somewhere …maybe that's normal after eighteen years, and a little girl … I don't know … I just don't want to lose you,” he said again, and kissed her. And when they came up for air, she smiled at him, and touched his lips with a gentle finger.

“You won't, Brock. I love you.” And she meant it.

“But you love him too,” he said wisely, and this time she didn't deny it.

“Maybe I do, and I don't know it. I don't love him in a romantic sense. But I love who he was, and what we had. We were together for a long time. I thought we had it all …and then everything fell apart. It was hard to understand that.” They shared a blood bond by now, like members of the same family, that was near impossible to sever. “I feel his pain. I think I understand what he did. I know what he's feeling. It's hard to explain that to someone else, or to stop feeling it just because things have changed between us.”

“Are you sure they have?” he asked softly.

“Positive,” she said firmly. “I'm not his wife now. I'm someone different than I was before. I don't know …I'm not sure you can ever go back, after all that happened to us. You can only go forward.” And she had, into Brock's arms, but she was not his wife either. She was no one's. She was her own, for the first time in years, and as lonely as it had been for a while, now at times she even liked it. She had the best of both worlds. A sense of herself she'd never had before, and Brock, whom she loved deeply.