Chapter 3 - Unraveling the Web
The sterile white walls of St. Jude’s Emergency Room seemed light-years away from the glittering opulence of the St. Regis ballroom. By 10:00 PM, Sophie had received three neat stitches near her right temple, a colorful unicorn bandage to make her smile, and a clean bill of health regarding the concussion, provided she rested for the next few days.
She fell asleep against my shoulder in the hospital armchair, her small chest rising and falling in steady rhythms.
My phone buzzed continuously on the small bedside table. Calls from unknown numbers, text messages from curious relatives, and emails from local news outlets wanting statements. I ignored them all, keeping my focus entirely on my daughter.
Around midnight, a soft knock sounded on the private room door. A tall woman in a sharp charcoal-gray pantsuit stepped inside. She held a leather briefcase and flashed a warm, reassuring smile.
"Elena? I'm Victoria Cross. I'm a senior partner at Cross & Associates, criminal and civil litigation," she introduced herself quietly, closing the door behind her. "Margaret’s family foundation retained me to ensure you and Sophie are fully protected. But I'm here representing you, free of charge, as my personal commitment to seeing justice done."
I blinked in surprise, shifting Sophie slightly so I could sit up straight. "Why? Margaret already offered to pay medical bills."
"Medical bills are the bare minimum," Victoria said, pulling up a chair and opening her portfolio. "Preston Vance didn't just commit a random act of violence. Our preliminary digital forensics team looked into his financial records as soon as the police seized his phone. Do you know why he stole that brooch and tried to frame your daughter?"
"I assumed he needed money for gambling or debts," I answered honestly.
"Worse," Victoria said grimly, sliding a printed financial summary across the table. "Preston was facing federal indictment for embezzlement from his law firm’s client trust accounts—over two million dollars. He was planning to steal Margaret’s family heirloom, blame an outsider—in this case, an eight-year-old child—to create a chaotic distraction, and skip the country with the insurance payout and cash before the wedding night ended."
A cold shiver ran down my spine. "He was going to use my daughter as a scapegoat for a federal felony?"
"Exactly. And because he failed and got caught on camera, he’s panicking. But here's the catch: Preston has powerful university alumni connections and a corrupt judge or two in his pocket in the lower municipal courts. He's already trying to post bail, claiming the assault on Sophie was a 'spontaneous accident caused by emotional distress'."
"Emotional distress?" I hissed, my voice rising before I caught myself and glanced down at sleeping Sophie. "He threw a heavy oak board at a child's head!"
"Which is why we are going to preempt every single one of his legal maneuvers," Victoria said with a fierce, confident grin. "We aren't just going to let the state prosecute him for assault. We are filing a joint federal civil rights violation suit, aggravated battery against a minor, and intentional infliction of emotional distress. We are going to sue him for every penny he ever dreamed of having, and make sure he spends the next decade behind bars."
"What do you need from me?" I asked, my hesitation completely evaporating, replaced by a cold, calculating resolve.
May you like
"Your signature on these retainer papers, and your willingness to stand on the witness stand and tell the jury exactly what that monster did to your little girl."
I picked up the pen without a moment's hesitation and signed my name.
