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In the Federation, there was one topic that sparked intense debate and polarized opinions—private prisons. To most people, private prisons were nothing short of hell for inmates. Within those walls, prisoners had no shred of privacy or rights left. They lived under an ironclad regi where every move was dictated by strict rules designed to exploit and oppress.
The days began before sunrise. Inmates woke up, ate a ager breakfast, perford morning drills, and then headed straight to workshops where they worked until noon. There, they had to et grueling quotas. After a brief thirty-minute lunch break, it was back to work until seven in the evening. Only then could they finally sit down for dinner.
For one hour after dinner, inmates were granted "free ti," but soon enough, they were herded back into their cells, lights out, so they'd be ready for another day of relentless labor. Everything inside ca at a premium; the prison not only profited from their labor but also from their wallets. Services ranged from cigarettes and alcohol to more dubious offerings like "holiday rooms," where inmates with deep pockets could indulge in forbidden pleasures. A street-level prostitute who might charge 20 bucks outside would cost hundreds within these walls.
To the majority, private prisons were purgatory—a place where survival ant becoming a cog in an unforgiving machine. But for others, these sa institutions were paradise. These privileged few enjoyed luxuries unimaginable in public facilities. Private cells, en-suite bathrooms, televisions, even personal phones—all were available if you could afford them.
These select inmates rose late, sipped coffee while reading newspapers over lavish breakfasts, played indoor golf in spacious quarters, made important phone calls, watched TV, or uncorked bottles of fine wine to toast with companions. Their evenings ended with gourt als fit for royalty. Save for the inability to leave, life inside mimicked everything they'd known on the outside—and often surpassed it.
Lynch's offer had been generous: reduced sentences, special talent recruitnt, and placent in a private facility. With connections to the National Security Council (NSC), Gap wouldn't have to worry about exorbitant prices. His wife, Vera, would likely cover his expenses, ensuring he lived comfortably behind bars.
Gap didn't hesitate when Lynch broached the subject. "Yes, I understand," he said firmly. "I kept a second ledger during my tenure as the group's auditor. It docunts suspicious fund transfers."
As any seasoned accountant would, Gap had ensured he had leverage—a backup plan. He began explaining the peculiarities of the transactions. "Each year, roughly 700,000 to 1.5 million bucks flowed into three private equity funds based in Bupayne. However, once the EverBright Group scandal broke, those transfers ceased entirely."
Twenty minutes later, Lynch stood beside Gap, shaking his hand. "Once we finalize arrangents, we'll transfer you to a private facility. Do you have a preference?"
Gap felt lighter now that he'd made his decision. As Lynch had put it, choosing between imdiate death and potential survival wasn't much of a choice at all. Once decided, the weight lifted. Even dying tomorrow seed better than facing execution today.
Shaking his head, Gap replied, "I'm not familiar with the options, but I'll look into it. There is sothing else, though…" He paused, glancing toward the door before continuing. "Ever since I've been incarcerated, I've lost touch with the outside world. I hear bits and pieces from the guards, but you know how reliable they are…"
Skipping over specifics, Gap voiced his request. "I need access to newspapers. That's all I ask."
"Consider it done," Lynch responded without hesitation. Such a small favor was easy to grant. "Anything else?"
"No… that's it."
After bidding farewell, Lynch turned to leave but stopped abruptly as Gap called out, "My wife—how is Vera?"
Lynch hesitated, then nodded. "She's fine…"
But sothing about the response unsettled Gap. Though he couldn't pinpoint why, Lynch's words lingered uneasily in his mind.
---
Back at the hotel, Lynch relayed his findings to Mr. Truman, who praised his efficiency. Whether intentionally or not, Truman failed to ntion retrieving the consultant ID card Lynch still carried. Likewise, Lynch saw no reason to bring it up himself. What neither man realized was that the ledger Gap provided held explosive information—not just against Congressman Wales, but also a looming threat tied to one of the implicated foundations: Healthy Federal People, a private fund ostensibly created to improve national health.
Resolving matters so quickly surprised even Lynch. He'd anticipated needing a full day or longer, but Gap proved easier to persuade than expected. With extra ti on his hands, his thoughts drifted to soone else—the girl waiting back at Kurland State University.
It had been nearly a year since he'd last seen her. Between work and other obligations, visiting hadn't been possible. Now, fate offered him the chance to reconnect. Despite never admitting it aloud, she still held a special place in his heart. High school sweethearts always leave an indelible mark, even if the mories aren't etched in stone.
When Lynch appeared before Katherine, the book she'd been holding slipped from her grasp and hit the ground. Without thinking, she rushed forward, nearly knocking him off balance. "You didn't tell
you were coming!"
Lynch steadied her with a hand on her waist. "Work brought
through town. Figured I'd stop by." Glancing past her, he noticed the stunned expressions of the friends she'd been chatting with monts earlier.
He was no longer the unremarkable guy from a small city. Today, Lynch was a household na across the Federation. His bestselling moir, inspired by his real-life struggles, had captivated readers nationwide and was set to beco a major motion picture. His story embodied the modern rags-to-riches mythos—a legend young drears aspired to emulate.
"You may not achieve greatness like historical icons," Lynch often told audiences, "but you can strive to be the next version of ." Words designed to inspire, even if he knew success on his scale was improbable for most. Still, offering hope ca naturally—it was part of his charm.
One of Katherine's friends, a well-dressed girl, broke the silence with a delayed shriek. "Oh my god, Katherine! You never said you knew Lynch! And… and…" Her voice trailed off dramatically.
"We used to date," Lynch admitted casually, pulling Katherine closer. The gesture felt instinctive. "Now we're friends. As for the future…" He glanced mischievously at Katherine. "Who knows?"
"This is huge news!" the friend exclaid, sprinting away to spread the word. Katherine sighed, shaking her head. "Soon, the whole campus will know."
"Will it bother you?" Lynch asked, feigning concern.
"Oh, absolutely," Katherine teased, her eyes crinkling into crescents. "All those boys planning to ask
out? Forget it. My college experience just took a nosedive."
"What a sha," Lynch replied dryly, clearly amused. Turning to the other students nearby, he added politely yet firmly, "I'll borrow Katherine for a bit. Sorry for the inconvenience."
None of them dared protest. How could they, when standing before them was soone leagues beyond their reach? This was the Federation, after all—a society where money spoke louder than anything else.
As Lynch and Katherine climbed into his luxury car parked curbside, several students stared in awe. Who would've guessed that the quiet, unassuming girl among them was once linked to soone like Lynch? So wondered if reconciliation might be on the horizon. Others, particularly the boys vying for Katherine's attention, felt crushed. Competing with Lynch seed impossible on every front.
Alone together, the pair reminisced about campus gossip, shared laughs over juicy rumors involving teachers and students, and discussed academic aspirations. Both Katherine and Lynch excelled academically. Had their families afforded tuition, they'd already be nearing graduation, poised for promising careers. Yet, despite the detours life had taken, neither regretted the paths they'd chosen.
Lynch smiled genuinely as Katherine recounted stories of their shared dreams. Listening to her animated chatter filled him with a rare sense of peace. For now, this mont was enough.
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