Page 134 of Accidental Mile High Vows

“Then we proceed to trial. And I promise you, Mr. Volkov, you will spend the rest of your life in prison.”

I look at Gerald. He nods slightly. This is the best deal we’re going to get.

“When would I have to report?”

“Forty-eight hours. That gives you time to say goodbye to your family. To put your affairs in order.” Sullivan slides the plea agreement across the table. “Sign this, and the deal is done.”

I pick up the document. Read through the terms. Two years minimum security. Full immunity for Savannah and Alexi. Businesses remain operational. Assets protected.

Everything I built stays intact. All I have to do is give up two years of my life. Two years of watching Dante grow. Two years of sleeping beside Savannah. Two years of being a husband and father.

But if I don’t take this deal, I lose all of it forever.

“I need a moment with my lawyers. Alone.”

Sullivan stands. “Of course. We’ll be right outside.”

The prosecutors and FBI agents file out. The door closes behind them.

Gerald turns to me. “It’s a good deal, Ledger. Maybe the best deal I’ve ever seen for charges this serious.”

“They’re letting me off easy because they need my cooperation.”

“And because prosecuting you would be politically complicated. You’re a major employer, a significant contributor to the local economy. The city doesn’t want to see you destroyed completely.” He taps the plea agreement. “Two years is nothing. You’ll be out before Dante starts preschool. Savannah can runthe day-to-day operations. Alexi handles the legitimate business side. Everything continues.”

“While I sit in prison.”

“While you stay alive and out of a maximum-security facility for the rest of your life. Those are your options.” Gerald’s voice is firm. “Take the deal.”

“Get them back in here.”

Gerald opens the door. The prosecutors return to their seats.

I pick up a pen. Sign the plea agreement without reading it again.

“You have forty-eight hours. Monday morning, eight AM, federal courthouse downtown.” Sullivan takes the signed document. “Don’t be late, Mr. Volkov. And don’t leave the city. You’re under electronic monitoring until you’re in custody.”

“Understood.”

“One more thing.” She pulls out a final document. “You’ll need to wear an ankle monitor until Monday. And you’ll be under house arrest. No leaving your residence except for approved activities.”

“Fine.”

An FBI agent steps forward with the ankle monitor. I extend my leg and let him attach it. The device is small, black, and cold against my skin.

“Congratulations, Mr. Volkov,” Sullivan says. “You just avoided life in prison. I hope you appreciate what a gift that is.”

“I do.”

“Good. Because if you violate any terms of this agreement, we’ll revoke the deal and proceed with the original charges. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

They pack up their files and leave. My legal team follows, Gerald promising to handle all the paperwork and logistics.

And then I’m alone in the conference room, an ankle monitor on my leg, two days of freedom left before I report to federal custody.

I pull out my phone and call Savannah.