A lawyer I hired to sell one of my properties called me and said, ‘We have a serious problem.’ And

Screaming and sobbing, Jasmine was dragged toward the front door. I watched silently as the flashing lights of the patrol cars swallowed them whole.

Several months after the arrest, the trial was held at the federal courthouse in Asheville. Jasmine and Ryan, sitting in the defendant’s seats, bore not a trace of their former arrogance.

Their skin was roughened by detention, and they were dressed in cheap, ill-fitting courtroom suits. Until the very end, they clung to the pathetic claim that it was merely borrowing within the family.

But the decisive confession recording submitted by the federal prosecutor shattered everything. The judge delivered the verdict in a cold, merciless voice.

“Defendant Jasmine Burke, you are found to be the principal offender in violations of the Elder Abuse Prevention Act, wire fraud, and aggravated identity theft—crimes of an extremely malicious nature. Accordingly, you are hereby sentenced to five years in federal prison. As for the accomplice, Ryan Burke, you are sentenced to 12 months of probation. In addition, full restitution to the victims is hereby ordered.”

“Five years? This is a lie! We only moved $800,000! There’s no way I should go to prison!”

Jasmine screamed in the courtroom, but reality showed no mercy. Furthermore, their assets were liquidated by the United States Marshals Service.

Every sandcastle they had built with stolen money was exposed to the light of day and collapsed. The latest Tesla bought with loans taken out in my name, the Hermes bags that had filled their closet, and Rolex watches worth thousands of dollars were seized one after another and sent to auction.

“Madison, please don’t sell that watch! Do you know how hard I worked to get it?”

In the detention center visiting room, Jasmine clung to me as she begged, and I answered her coldly.

“You didn’t work for it. You just stole the wealth that women like Sophia Collins protected their entire lives. Everything is going back where it belongs. Don’t cling to it for even a millimeter. Your so-called success was a fake built on other people’s misery.”

The funds generated from the seized assets were distributed under federal supervision to six victims. Out of the total damages of $800,000, approximately 30% was returned to them.

Sometime later, I visited the home of one of the victims, Mrs. Sophia Collins.

“Madison, thank you so much. My grandson’s college fund came back. I had already given up, but now I can let him chase his dreams again.”

As I felt the warmth of her hands gripping mine through her tears, I knew it with certainty. Uncovering the truth in that house that day was the most valuable action I had ever taken in my life.

“Madison, wait! Don’t go!”

The one who chased after me as I stepped out through the heavy courthouse doors was my mother. Her face was crumpled with tears, and there was no trace left of the dignified figure she had been just months before.

But what spilled from her mouth was not an apology to me, but a shockingly selfish accusation.

“If you had changed your testimony and agreed to a settlement, Jasmine’s life could have been saved! Don’t you have any mercy at all? Do you really think you can be happy after throwing your own family into hell?”

I stopped walking and slowly turned around.

“Mom, let me ask you just one thing. Did you truly not doubt for even a single second, until Jasmine was arrested, that she had stolen my identity and scammed elderly people? When you saw that flashy lifestyle, didn’t you think anything was strange?”

At my question, my mother twisted her face and screamed as if spitting the words out.

“Of course I didn’t doubt it! I just assumed that you, being successful, were helping your sister out. I thought that was family supporting family. And yet, without even talking to me, you suddenly sold Jasmine out to complete strangers like the FBI and the police. If you had consulted me, we could have settled this quietly within the family. Instead, you dragged it out into the open and trampled our family’s pride with your own hands.”

The moment I heard those words, something inside me collapsed with a sound and then vanished completely. To my mother, my sister and I had never really mattered.

The only thing she could not forgive was losing the chance to cover up the family’s shame and having it exposed to the world.

“Pride? What pride is there in a family that steals money from the elderly and frames their own daughter? Mom, the family you’re talking about tried to destroy me. The only people who protected me were my friends: Daniel, who isn’t even related by blood, and Michael, my colleague. After knowing the truth, you still blame me for not hiding a crime. You no longer have the right to call yourself my mother.”

I took a copy of my grandmother’s will, the one I had found in the attic, from my bag and shoved it against my mother’s chest.

“Grandma saw everything coming. That’s why she entrusted me with the evidence to cut you all off. Mom, this is goodbye for you, too. Stay buried in that dark past along with your so-called family dignity.”

Ignoring my mother’s screams behind me, I walked toward the parking lot without looking back even once. That very day, I blocked all contact information for my mother, Jasmine, and Ryan.

Through my lawyer, I also sent a legal notice prohibiting any future contact whatsoever. After the storm-like days had passed, silence returned once more to the mountains of Asheville.

The A-frame house I had inherited from my grandmother was sold promptly once evidence preservation for the case was lifted. Ironically, the attic—the one Jasmine and the others had called filthy and never went near—remained the only part of the house that was still untouched and beautiful.

A young couple who came to view the property instantly fell in love with the hidden room in the attic, calling it perfect for a secret study, and the deal closed at the full asking price. The proceeds from the sale were deposited into my account.

They were funds for my future, money my grandmother had protected with her life. Using that money, I bought a small house in a quiet place far from the bustle of Charlotte, a new base for my life.

There, there was no family left who would sacrifice me for their own sake. Several years after the incident, I heard rumors about how they were doing.

Jasmine is currently inside the gray walls of a federal prison. The woman who once clutched Hermes bags and drank fine wine is nowhere to be found anymore.

Now, she spends her days in a sterile orange jumpsuit, eating meals from a cold plastic tray. Inside prison, a former elite con artist title means absolutely nothing.

And she now spends her days scrubbing floors while trembling in fear of inmates far stronger than she is. Her husband Ryan’s fate is even more miserable.

Placed on probation, his criminal record has prevented him from finding any decent work, and he now drifts from one day-labor construction site to another at the very bottom of society. He never had any real loyalty to Jasmine to begin with, and the moment her incarceration was decided, he coldly turned on her and filed for divorce.

But now penniless, he can barely scrape together enough money to pay the rent on a run-down apartment. And then there is my mother.

The family reputation she valued above all else was dragged through the mud, and the rumors spread quickly. One by one, her friends drifted away.

And now she lives completely alone, whittling down the small amount of savings that escaped seizure, spending her days in a dark room with the windows shut tight, cursing my name—or so I’ve heard. As for me, the restoration of my credit history has been progressing smoothly.

My name as a real estate investor has once again established itself as that of a trustworthy business partner. I quietly speak in my heart to the smiling photograph of my grandmother displayed above the fireplace in my new home.

“Grandma, thank you. What you wanted to protect, I’ve truly inherited it now.”