Chapter 8 - The Trial in the Ballroom
Simone let out a sharp, hysterical gasp, stepping behind Victor. "No... no, it’s impossible! She died! The dental records... the coroner—"
"The coroner you paid fifty thousand dollars to sign a fake identification report, Simone?" I asked, stopping twenty feet from the stage, right in front of the Attorney General and the Governor.
Adrien stared at me as if looking at an apparition summoned from hell. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His knees shook violently beneath his trousers.
"Mara..." he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "You're... you're alive..."
"I am," I said, holding his terrified gaze. "Though no thanks to you, my love."
"Mara, listen to me!" Adrien panicked, stepping off the podium, reaching his hands out desperately. "I tried to reach you! The fire... Victor told me you were already dead! He said the third floor collapsed!"
"Victor told you what you wanted to hear so you could turn left down the corridor," I replied coldly.
I raised my right hand, holding a small remote control.
"Let's listen to what really happened that night, shall we?"
I pressed the button.
The ballroom speakers boomed with the crystal-clear, decrypted audio file recorded from Aaron Pike’s body wire three years ago.
The voice of Victor Hale roared through the room:
"Get Simone down to the vault. Leave the girl upstairs. Adrien signed off on the restructuring."
Adrien’s voice followed immediately:
"Are you sure she’s safe?"
Victor’s response:
"She’s where she belongs."
Then, the heavy sound of Adrien’s footsteps fading away down the left hallway, followed by Simone’s laugh:
"Make sure the nursery door stays locked, Victor. The trust settles at midnight."
Gasps of horror and disgust erupted from the five hundred elite guests.
The Attorney General stood up from his front-row seat, his face dark with fury, staring at Victor and Simone.
"You monsters..." Adrien whispered, slowly turning to look at Simone, realization finally breaking through his years of self-delusion. "You... you locked her in..."
"Shut up, Adrien!" Simone shrieked, her aristocratic mask shattering into wild panic. "She's lying! That audio is fabricated! Security, kill her! Shoot her!"
Not a single guard moved.
Marcus Pike stepped into the room from the side entrance, flanked by six armed officers from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
"Simone Vey, Victor Hale, Adrien Cole," the lead FBI agent announced, pulling out a thick warrant document. "You are under arrest for federal wire fraud, arson, conspiracy to commit murder, and treasonous money laundering."
Victor reached for a concealed sidearm in his jacket, but Marcus was faster—he stepped forward and slammed Victor’s face hard against the marble stage, pinning his hands behind his back in a second.
Simone backed away, sobbing hysterically, as steel handcuffs clicked around her wrists.
Adrien didn't run. He didn't move. He stood frozen on the stage, staring at me as the agents approached him.
"Mara..." Adrien wept, falling to his knees before me, tears streaming down his face. "I didn't know... I swear to God, I didn't know they were going to burn the floor! I was weak... I was stupid... please, forgive me..."
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I looked down at the man I had once loved—a man who had traded his soul, his wife, and his unborn child for the illusion of power.
"I didn't come here to forgive you, Adrien," I said softly, leaning down so only he could hear my words. "I came to show you what you threw away."
