Chapter 7 - Under Oath
"The witness will take the stand," Judge Harrison ordered, her voice brooking no argument.
Eleanor Vance smoothed her Chanel jacket with trembling hands. Her regal aura was battered, but she refused to surrender. She glided to the witness stand with the posture of a monarch walking toward her coronation, placing her gloved hand on the Bible and swearing to tell the truth.
Chloe stepped forward, her heels clicking methodically on the polished floor. She did not open with a flurry of questions; she allowed the silence to stretch, watching Eleanor’s eyes dart between the reporters in the gallery and the judge.
"Mrs. Vance," Chloe began pleasantly. "You are the primary trustee of the Vance Family Trust, correct?"
"I am," Eleanor said, lifting her chin. "A trust established over three generations to preserve the legacy, honor, and financial well-being of our household."
"And as the primary trustee, you authorized an emergency stipend of three million dollars to Julian Vance two days before he served my client with divorce papers in her hospital bed. Why?"
"It was an advance on his inheritance to settle pre-existing business obligations," Eleanor replied smoothly. "A private family matter entirely within the parameters of the trust indenture."
"A private matter," Chloe repeated. She pulled a glossy sheet from her folder. "Then why did two million of those three million dollars go directly to the offshore account of Victoria Sterling?"
At the mention of Victoria's name, Eleanor’s veneer of calm shattered. Julian gripped the edge of his table, his knuckles turning white.
"Victoria Sterling is an interior design consultant contracted to renovate the Vance estate in Aspen," Eleanor said coldly, though a vein pulsed at her temple.
"An interior designer who happens to share an apartment lease with your son on Fifth Avenue?" Chloe fired back. "An interior designer who was registered as the primary emergency contact on Julian’s personal health insurance policy while Clara was in the ICU suffering from severe preeclampsia?"
"That is irrelevant to child custody!" Caldwell shouted, leaping up. "This is a domestic relations hearing, not an audit of private romantic associations!"
"It goes directly to character, motive, and child endangerment!" Chloe shot back, turning fiercely toward the bench. "Your Honor, the petitioner claims Clara Vance is unfit because of financial volatility. We are demonstrating that the Vance family intentionally stripped the marital home, redirected family trust funds to a third party, and conspired to bankrupt Clara during the most vulnerable hours of her pregnancy to force her into surrendering parental rights!"
"Overruled," Judge Harrison said without hesitation. "The witness will answer the question."
Eleanor looked trapped. She swallowed hard, her manicured fingers digging into the polished wood of the witness rail. "Julian made personal choices regarding his marriage. As his mother, I supported him. That does not disqualify him from being a father."
"Did you or did you not instruct Dr. Aris Thorne at St. Jude’s Hospital to withhold Clara’s prenatal cardiac scans?" Chloe demanded, stepping within three feet of the witness stand. Her voice was thunderous. "Did you tell him that if Clara Vance suffered a fatal stroke during delivery, the hospital would receive a five-million-dollar endowment for its new surgical wing?"
The courtroom erupted.
Journalists scrambled over benches, typing furiously on their phones. The gallery buzzed like a disturbed hornets' nest.
"That is an outrageous lie!" Eleanor shrieked, losing all semblance of aristocratic dignity. She slammed her palm onto the rail, her face flushing crimson. "Dr. Thorne would never—you have no proof! You are a gutter lawyer fabricating conspiracies!"
"I don't need Dr. Thorne's testimony, Mrs. Vance," Chloe said with chilling calm. She turned toward the double doors at the back of the courtroom. "Because Dr. Thorne was arrested forty-five minutes ago by federal agents for Medicaid fraud and illegal distribution of restricted narcotics. And in exchange for a plea deal, he surrendered his personal phone, complete with six recorded voicemails from you."
Eleanor’s mouth fell open. All the blood drained from her face, leaving her a ghastly shade of chalk.
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Beside me, Marcus leaned in, his voice a low rumble. "Look at Julian."
I turned my head. Julian was not looking at his mother. He was staring at the courtroom doors, his eyes wide with sheer terror. His phone, resting flat on the mahogany table, was buzzing incessantly with a caller ID that sent shivers through the entire Vance legal team: *Victoria Sterling.*
