"She Kicked The CEO’s Pregnant Wife At The Gala—Until A Billionaire Stepped Forward And Stopped Her

The central precinct courtroom in downtown Manhattan was packed to absolute capacity by 2:00 p.m.

Reporters from every major news network sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the gallery, their laptops open, camera flashes going off endlessly behind the wooden barrier.

In the defendant's box sat Saraphina Rivers.

Gone was the blood-red McQueen dress and the slicked-back ponytail. She was dressed in a dark orange correctional jumpsuit, her wrists bound by heavy iron handcuffs linked to a chain around her waist. Her hair was messy, her face devoid of makeup, looking pale, terrified, and utterly defeated.

Her high-priced defense attorney stood beside her, trying desperately to argue for bail before Judge Anthony Vance—Julian’s uncle, a veteran judge known for his ruthless adherence to the law.

"Your Honor," Saraphina’s attorney pleaded, gesturing to his client. "Miss Rivers is a prominent journalist with no prior criminal record. The incident at the gala was a tragic personal dispute, a momentary loss of control—"

"A momentary loss of control?" Judge Vance interrupted, his sharp eyes glaring over the top of his reading glasses. "Counselor, I have reviewed the high-definition security footage provided by the prosecutor. Your client shoved a seven-month pregnant woman to the floor and deliberately kicked her in the abdomen with a four-inch steel heel."

"Your Honor, she had no intent to endanger the child!"

"The victim underwent an emergency C-section, and her newborn child remains in critical condition in the NICU as we speak," Judge Vance snapped, his gavel coming down with a loud bang. "Bail is denied. The defendant will remain in custody at Rose M. Singer Center pending trial for attempted murder and felony assault."

Saraphina let out a shrill scream as court officers grabbed her arms. "No! You can't leave me here! Matthew! Matthew, tell them!"

She looked frantically toward the gallery, searching for Matthew Hayes.

Matthew was sitting in the third row, dressed in a wrinkled suit, looking completely isolated. When Saraphina’s eyes caught his, Matthew deliberately turned his head away, ignoring her completely.

"You coward!" Saraphina shrieked, struggling against the guards as she was dragged toward the holding cell doors. "You lied to me! You told me you were going to divorce her! You told me she was nothing! I destroyed my life for you!"

The heavy steel doors slammed shut behind her, cutting off her screams.

Outside on the courthouse steps, a mob of three hundred reporters swarmed the exit as Matthew tried to reach his town car.

"Matthew! Is it true Vance Capital has seized your headquarters?!"

"Matthew! Did you know Saraphina was going to attack your wife?!"

"Are you going to see your daughter in the NICU?!"

Matthew pushed blindly through the microphones, his face red and sweating. "No comment! Get those cameras out of my face!"

Before he could reach his car, two men in dark suits stepped out from behind a black SUV, displaying brass badges pinned to their leather belts.

"Matthew Hayes?" the lead detective asked.

Matthew froze, his heart dropping into his stomach. "Yes?"

"I’m Detective Miller with the Manhattan District Attorney’s Financial Crimes Division," the officer said, pulling out a pair of steel handcuffs. "We have an arrest warrant for you issued by the Supreme Court."

Matthew stared in horror. "An arrest warrant?! For what?!"

"Grand larceny, corporate fraud, and felony forgery," the detective announced loudly for every camera to record. "You have the right to remain silent..."

As the cold steel cuffed his wrists behind his back, Matthew looked up toward the top of the courthouse steps.

Standing under the grand stone archway was Elise.

She was dressed in a sleek midnight-blue wool coat, her posture straight and majestic, her hand resting comfortably over her dark leather handbag. Beside her stood Julian Vance, his long dark coat open, his hand lightly resting on the small of her back in a quiet, undeniable show of absolute protection.

Elise looked down at her husband—the man who had called her "fine," the man who had let her bleed on a cold marble floor, the man who had stolen her life’s work.