The Little Maid Said My Fiancée Was Poisoning Me — So I Asked Her To Eat My Breakfast First

Six months later.

The Cook County Criminal Courthouse was packed to capacity.

Reporters from every major news network in the country sat in the gallery, typing furiously on their laptops as the high-profile trial of State of Illinois v. Evelyn Mercer & Thomas Sterling reached its final verdict.

Daniel sat in the front row of the gallery, wearing a dark navy suit, looking calm, healthy, and composed. Beside him sat Frank Miller and Dr. Harrison Cole.

Behind the defense table, Evelyn Mercer wore an orange prison jumpsuit, her blonde hair dull and unstyled, her wrists cuffed to a chain around her waist. Beside her, Thomas Sterling looked like a broken shell of a man, his expensive suits replaced by grey detention clothes.

The judge cleared his throat, tapping his gavel.

"Will the defendants please stand," the judge commanded.

Evelyn and Thomas stood up slowly.

"On count one, conspiracy to commit first-degree murder, how do you find?"

"Guilty," the jury foreman declared firmly.

"On count two, attempted murder by administration of a controlled neurotoxin, how do you find?"

"Guilty."

"On count three, wire fraud and corporate embezzlement, how do you find?"

"Guilty."

The courtroom erupted into a flurry of whispers and camera shutters.

The judge looked down at the defendants with cold severity.

"Evelyn Mercer, Thomas Sterling," the judge stated. "You engaged in a cold, calculated, and terrifying campaign of murder for financial gain. You exploited trust, intimacy, and the legal system to prey upon human life."

The judge slammed his gavel down.

"I sentence you both to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole, to be served in a maximum-security federal facility. Court is adjourned."

Evelyn turned her head as she was being led away by federal marshals. She looked at Daniel sitting in the gallery.

For the first time, Daniel did not look away. He looked at her with total, absolute indifference. She was no longer a threat. She was no longer a shadow in his life. She was simply a monster whose cage had finally been locked forever.

As the courtroom cleared, Daniel walked out into the warm afternoon sunshine on Washington Street.

Reporters swarmed him with microphones.

"Mr. Carter! How does it feel to finally have justice?" "Mr. Carter, what are you going to do with your estate now?"

Daniel stopped before the microphones, taking a breath of the fresh, clean city air.

"Justice was served today," Daniel told the cameras calmly. "Not because of my money. Not because of my power. But because a six-year-old girl was brave enough to stand up for the truth."

He pushed past the reporters and stepped into the back seat of his waiting town car.