Chapter 6 - The Arraignment & The Retaliation
Eleanor Vance did not look like a woman who had just spent six hours in a holding cell.
As she stepped through the brass double doors of the county courthouse into the blinding glare of the midnight paparazzi flashes, she wore an oversized camel-hair cashmere coat over a tailored black jumpsuit. A pair of oversized designer sunglasses shielded her eyes from the media frenzy, and her chin was tilted upward at an angle that screamed absolute, aristocratic disdain.
Flanking her were four private bodyguards wearing earpieces and Richard Sterling—a sixty-year-old defense attorney whose shark-like smile had dismantled hundreds of state prosecutions.
“Mrs. Vance! Did you push your pregnant daughter-in-law?” a reporter screamed, shoving a microphone over the velvet barricade.
“Mrs. Vance, what do you say to the attempted murder charges?” another voice yelled.
Richard Sterling stepped in front of the microphones, raising a manicured hand.
“My client is the victim of a grotesque, coordinated extortion scheme orchestrated by opportunistic house staff and an emotionally unstable young woman who has preyed upon the Vance family legacy,” Sterling projected, his voice smooth as warm bourbon. “Mrs. Vance is completely innocent of these fabricated allegations. We look forward to complete exoneration in court and intend to file fifty-million-dollar defamation lawsuits against every individual involved. No further comments.”
The bodyguards shoved the press back, clearing a path toward a waiting black armored SUV. Eleanor climbed into the leather interior, the doors slamming shut with a heavy, soundproof thud.
The moment the tinted glass shielded her from the public, the cold, composed facade shattered.
Eleanor ripped off her sunglasses, her face contorting into an expression of unbridled, feral rage. She turned to Sterling, who had slipped into the seat opposite her.
“The hard drive,” Eleanor hissed, her fingernails digging into the leather armrest. “Did your men get the hard drive from the manor?”
Sterling adjusted his cufflinks, his expression sober. “The police have the copy Arthur provided. But that copy is legally vulnerable, Eleanor. We can suppress it in preliminary hearings if we claim chain-of-custody violations or argue that the footage was deepfaked or tampered with by the butler.”
“I don’t want to *suppress* it, Richard! I want it destroyed!” Eleanor snarled, leaning forward, spit flying from her lips. “Arthur has the master server hidden inside that grandfather clock. If the state forensic unit gets a search warrant for the physical hardware, the time-stamped metadata will prove the recording is pristine. I will be facing life without parole!”
Sterling leaned back, his cold eyes narrowing. “The police have not executed a search warrant on the physical manor yet. They believe the flash drive is sufficient. The estate is currently locked down, guarded only by private security guards we placed on the payroll three hours ago.”
Eleanor’s lips curled into a sickening, triumphant sneer.
“Arthur is at the hospital with Julian and the little parasite,” Eleanor murmured, pulling a secure burner phone from her coat pocket. “He left the manor wide open.”
She dialed a private number. The call connected after half a ring.
“Marcus,” Eleanor said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. “You and your crew have two hours. Break into the Vance estate library. Destroy the grandfather clock. Tear out the internal drive, melt the components in industrial acid, and set a localized electrical fire in the east wing to cover the evidence. Make sure nothing is left.”
“Consider it done, Mrs. Vance,” a raspy voice replied before hanging up.
Eleanor dropped the burner phone into her purse and smiled.
May you like
“Let them try to put Eleanor Vance in a cage,” she whispered to the empty air. “I built this kingdom. I will burn it to the ground before I let a servant and a beggar take it from me.”
***
