The trial played out like a horrific drama, with each witness tearing apart the painstakingly put together front Bobby had cultivated over the years.

He was horrified to hear the goons describe their interactions with him; their descriptions gave the impression that he was a helpless man who would use force.


The recordings played in the courtroom, his own voice a damning echo of his threats and manipulations.

Then came the biggest blow. Tiger, his face pale and drawn, took the stand. Bobby's jaw clenched tight as he listened to his once-loyal confidante detail their illegal operations, the blackmail schemes, and Bobby's explicit orders to silence Sarah and Derrick.

"Mr. Briggs," the prosecutor addressed Tiger, his voice sharp, "Did Mr. Duke ever threaten to harm anyone?"


Tiger looked at Bobby for a second, then returned his attention to the prosecutor, meeting his gaze with a spark of defiance. "Yes, sir," he answered, his voice hardly audible above a whisper. "He ordered me to take care of Ms. Thompson and Mr. Duke."

The prosecution continued, drawing out details of Bobby's desperation and his developing paranoia, and the atmosphere in the room flared.


Mr. Thorne's questioning were tough and incisive when the defense eventually got an opportunity to cross-examine, but the damage was already done.

The jurors deliberated for a long, long time. When they eventually came back, their expressions glum, the decision was made quickly and harshly: they were found guilty of conspiracy, attempted murder, and killing Marshal Briggs.

The judge, a stern woman with piercing blue eyes, addressed Bobby. "Mr. Duke," she said in an emotionless voice, "you have been found guilty of conspiracy, attempted murder, and the murder of your father, Marshal Briggs. By this punishment, you will serve a life term without the chance of release."

Life imprisonment. The words echoed in Bobby's mind, a sentence far harsher than he had anticipated. He had envisioned years in a white-collar prison, surrounded by other businessmen who had made bad decisions.

Life in a real prison, with hardened criminals and backbreaking labor, was a terrifying prospect.

As the guards led him away, his gaze fell on Sarah and Derrick. Their expressions were a mix of relief and sadness as they sat there.

He wanted to say sorry, to ask for pardon, but he could not find the right words. Shame, a heavy cloak, stifled any attempt at redemption.

Bobby's world crumbled around him. Life imprisonment. Labor. A death sentence in everything but name, the words echoed in his mind.

With a spark of something like happiness in their eyes, he glanced at Sarah and Derrick and felt a rush of sadness pass over him.

He looked at Betty, who was sitting in the back row and had a shocked, pale face. Their six-year-old secret son, Tommy, sat beside her, his big brown eyes wide with confusion.

Bobby's heart ached. He couldn't let this be the end. He had to get out, for Tommy's sake, for his own twisted sense of survival.

In the confines of his prison cell, a desperate plan began to form in Bobby's mind. He knew a guy, a smuggler with connections, who could get him a passport under a fake name. All he needed was money and a way out.

He managed to sneak a call to Betty, his voice hoarse with urgency. "Betty, it's me, Bobby," he whispered, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Bobby? How… how did you get this?" Betty stammered, her voice laced with fear.

"Doesn't matter," Bobby snapped. "Listen, we need to go. Pack your bags, take Tommy. Meet me at the airport in two days. We're getting out of here."

Betty gasped. "Out of here? Where? And how?"

"Don't ask questions," Bobby hissed. "Just do it. We're running out of time, but there is a way out. I'll email you the information. Simply show up."

With a flicker of hope flickering within him, he slammed down the phone. He intended to flee and start a fresh life, far from the ghosts of his past. His resolve was strengthened by the idea of a future, however uncertain.

But Bobby had been so desperate that he had not seen that his prison's walls went far beyond the steel and concrete bars. His acts' consequences stuck to him like a shroud, constantly reminding him that not all faults are pardoned.

As Bobby and Betty drove down the highway, his fingers white from gripping the steering wheel, the air crackled with tense electricity.

Tommy didn't realize how serious the situation was, so he hopped into his booster seat and hummed along to a song on the radio.

"Mommy, where are we going?" Tommy chirped, his big brown eyes shining with curiosity.

Betty forced a smile. "Just a little surprise trip, sweetheart. Remember how you always wanted to see the ocean?"

Tommy's face lit up. "The ocean? Really?"

"Really," Betty confirmed, her voice shaky. The lie felt heavy on her tongue, but it was the only way to keep Tommy calm.

Bobby's desperate call had completely turned her world upside down. Get away? It sounded absurd, like a desperate plan hatched by a shattered man.

Still, there was a glimmer of hope mixed with horror at the mention of leaving their lives behind, as well as the genuine panic in his voice.

He had pledged an escape route, a new persona, and a new beginning. Clinging to the ruins of their collapsing life, Betty was desperate to catch hold of the lifeline extended across a pit of sorrow.

After receiving confusing directions over a slew of burner phones, Betty had loaded up one duffel bag, stuffed Tommy's necessities into a backpack, and driven off. They were driving towards an unknown destination, a future shrouded in uncertainty.

As they neared the airport, a growing sense of unease gnawed at Betty. She stole a glance at the rearview mirror, a prickling sensation crawling up her spine.

A black sedan, nondescript and yet oddly menacing, seemed to be tailing them.

"Mommy, why are we going so fast?" Tommy piped up, his voice laced with a hint of worry.

Suddenly, a glint of blue light flickered in the rearview mirror. Bobby's breath hitched. Police.

"No…" he choked out, his voice laced with raw panic.

"What's wrong?" Betty shrieked, her voice cracking.

"Cops," Bobby muttered, his foot slamming down on the accelerator. The car lurched forward, the engine roaring in protest.

"Don't do this, Bobby!" Betty screamed. "Think about Tommy!"

But Bobby, consumed by primal fear, wasn't listening. Ignoring the flashing lights and honking horns, he navigated his way through the traffic. The trip felt like a desperate gamble at every bend.

As the police car approached them, its siren began to play a menacing tune. With her face buried in Tommy's hair, Betty clutched to him and whispered comforting words that didn't even sound real to her.

Ahead, the airport gleamed like a far-off light of hope. But the black vehicle behind them screeched to a stop as Bobby entered the temporary parking lot. Grim-faced, two figures in black suits stepped out of the automobile.

Suddenly, Betty felt a hand come down firmly on her shoulder. A harsh voice rasped in her ear before she had a chance to cry out. "Don't move, Ms. Betty."

Betty whirled around, her blood turning to ice. Two police officers stood behind her, their faces grim, their badges glinting in the harsh afternoon sun.

"Where is he?" one of them barked, his gaze sharp.

Betty's mind went blank. "Who? Where? I don't…"

"Mr. Duke," the other officer interrupted, his voice laced with a hint of disgust. "We know you were planning to leave town with him. Don't make it harder than it has to be."

The world spun around Betty. Bobby had been caught. In an instant, all of their dreams of freedom and a fresh start vanished. Her eyesight blurred as tears filled her eyes.

She cried out, "Tommy," a mother's intense protectiveness showing through. "What about Tommy? He doesn't understand…"

One of the officers sighed and pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Dispatch, we have the woman in custody. Requesting backup to take care of the child."

Betty, her voice trembling, tried to explain, to offer some semblance of comfort. But the words wouldn't come. Her eyes met Bobby's, a look of raw, naked fear etched on his face across the distance as the officers led him away.

Officers emerged, their faces grim, their voices laced with a steely authority. Bobby, having lost all hope, collapsed over the driver's seat in defeat.

One of the officers yelled, "Get out of the car, Mr. Duke," as he raised his hand to his holster.

Handcuffs were slapped on the wrists and doors were pushed open. Tommy started crying, his tears creating a sorrowful melody in the air as he suddenly realized how serious the situation was.

"Mommy, where are we going?" He whined, fear and confusion visible in his large brown eyes.

With tears running down her cheeks, Betty knelt and encircled him with her arms, protecting him from the awful reality that was being revealed to them.

She said, "It's okay, baby," her voice full with sorrow. "Everything will work out."

The escape plan, a flimsy dream fueled by desperation, had ended before it even began. The weight of Bobby's crimes, the long arm of the law, had caught up with him, and in the process, dragged Betty and Tommy down with him.

As they were ushered into separate police cars, Betty stole one last look at Bobby. The man she had loved, the father of her child, was gone. In his place stood a stranger, consumed by his own darkness, forever a prisoner of his choices.