The courtroom of Judge Harrison Sterling was packed. The divorce of the Vance empire heiress was catnip for the Chicago press.
Alexander’s high-priced defense attorney, a shark named Bradley Vance (no relation, just irony), paced before the witness stand.
“Ms. Marin,” Bradley began smoothly, “you have been Camille Grant’s closest friend for ten years. In the weeks leading up to her surgery, did you observe erratic, paranoid behavior? Did she, perhaps, become detached from reality?”
Alexander sat back in his chair, exuding a sorrowful, practiced pity.
Chloe adjusted the microphone. She looked at Alexander, then at the judge.
“Camille wasn’t paranoid,” Chloe said clearly. “She was being hunted.”
The courtroom murmured. Bradley frowned. “Ms. Marin, I remind you that you are under oath. You previously provided an affidavit stating—”
“I was blackmailed into signing that affidavit,” Chloe interrupted, her voice gaining strength. She reached into her blazer and pulled out a small, silver USB drive. “By the defendant. Alexander Grant.”
Alexander shot to his feet. “Objection! What is this? She’s lying!”
“Sit down, Mr. Grant!” Judge Sterling barked.
Victoria stood up from my table. “Your Honor, we submit into evidence Defense Exhibit C, a series of audio recordings captured by Ms. Marin over the past three years.”
Despite Bradley’s frantic objections, the judge allowed the playback.
Alexander’s voice filled the courtroom. It was slurred, arrogant, and unmistakably him.
“She’s a naive idiot, Chloe. The old man is basically a vegetable. I practiced his signature for three weeks. Once I have the executive transfer, we bleed the trust dry, move the capital to the Caymans, and I’ll leave her the second the brain surgery is over. If she dies on the table, even better. The Vance empire is mine.”
The silence in the room was absolute. I looked at Alexander. His face was the color of ash. His perfect, manicured facade was peeling off in real-time.
But Victoria wasn’t done. She loved the theatrics just as much as I did.
“Your Honor, regarding the defendant’s claim of custody over his alleged son, Matthew, to force emergency financial provisions,” Victoria stated, pulling out a sealed lab document. “We subpoenaed the DNA records.”
“Matthew is my son!” Alexander yelled, his composure completely breaking.
“Actually,” Victoria said, sliding the paper to the bailiff, “Matthew belongs to Chloe’s former fiancé, Ethan. You are completely genetically unrelated to the boy.”
Alexander sneered, his chest heaving. “Fine. But Nora is mine. I demand full custody and child support from the marital estate for Nora!”
Chloe gripped the edges of the witness stand. “Nora isn’t yours either, Alex.”
Alexander froze. “What?”
“Her father is Gavin Hale,” Chloe said, tears welling in her eyes. “A man I dated briefly when we were on a break. You assumed she was yours because of your ego. But I had her tested last week.”
“You’re lying!” Alexander roared. He lunged forward, pushing past his own lawyer, launching himself toward the witness stand with his hands outstretched like claws.
The courtroom erupted into chaos. Two heavily armed bailiffs hit Alexander like freight trains, tackling him over the defense table. Papers flew everywhere as they pinned his face against the polished mahogany, cuffing his hands behind his back.
He thrashed like a wild animal, spit flying from his lips. “You get nothing, Camille! You hear me?! Even if you take it back, I signed the loans! I heavily leveraged the estate! The debt will drown you! You win a bankrupt empire!”
He laughed, a maniacal, blood-flecked sound echoing through the room.
Victoria slowly packed her files into her briefcase. She looked down at Alexander, pinned to the floor, and smiled—a slow, terrifying, predatory smile.
“Oh, Alexander,” Victoria sighed. “Did you really think Richard Vance didn’t see you coming? Did you actually read the poison pill clause in his will?”
Cliffhanger: Alexander stopped struggling, his eyes darting frantically to Victoria. “What poison pill?” he choked out. Victoria turned to the judge. “Your Honor, we’d like to submit the final codicil of the late Richard Vance’s trust. The clause that activates the moment a fiduciary officer commits fraud against his daughter.”
Chapter 6: The Architect’s Masterpiece
Just 2 hours before my 7-hour brain surgery, my husband tossed divorce papers onto my hospital bed and sneered, ‘Sign these. Chloe is having my son, and I need this clean in case you wake up a vegetable.’ He thought I was too medicated to stop him from stealing my $85M empire. Instead, I quietly texted my lawyer, triggering a 10-year-old trap that would leave him penniless by tomorrow.
Part 5 of 6
