Chapter 6 - THE TRIAL PREPARATION
By the third week following the Incident at the Marble Kitchen—as the tabloid press had taken to calling it—the legal war had reached a fever pitch.
Christopher had hired Julian Vance-Ross (another high-priced defense attorney with family ties), who immediately launched a aggressive smear campaign in the media.
They claimed I was a cold, calculating corporate climber who had orchestrated the entire incident to pull off a hostile takeover of Christopher’s logistics empire. They claimed the boiling tea was a staged stunt, and that I had goaded Christopher into a momentary flare of emotion.
I sat in Arthur’s high-rise law office overlooking Central Park, watching a news clip of Julian speaking on the courthouse steps.
"My client, Christopher Vance, is a victim of corporate espionage within his own marriage," Julian announced into a cluster of microphones. "Mrs. Vance manipulated financial documents to strip Mr. Vance of his rightful heritage, and we will prove in court that the events of that morning were entirely provoked."
Arthur clicked the TV off with a dismissive grunt.
"Desperate tactics from a sinking ship," Arthur sneered, pouring two glasses of sparkling water. "They have nothing, Savannah. The 4K video from your laptop camera is crystal clear. The audio captures him demanding money, threatening you, and executing the strike without a single physical provocation on your part."
"They're trying to sway the jury pool," I said, taking a sip of water. "They know if this goes to trial, Christopher is facing a mandatory minimum of three years."
"They want a settlement," Arthur agreed. "Julian called my office an hour ago. Christopher is willing to sign the divorce agreement and waive all claims to the house and Vance Logistics—if you drop the civil lawsuits against his mother and sister, and agree to testify as a hostile witness to reduce his criminal charges to simple misdemeanor assault."
I laughed. It was a clear, ringing sound.
"Tell Julian no," I said.
Arthur smiled. "I figured you'd say that."
"Tell him we are going to trial," I continued, leaning forward. "And add a civil suit for intentional infliction of emotional distress, seeking five million dollars in damages."
"Five million?" Arthur chuckled. "He doesn't have five million, Savannah."
"I know he doesn't," I replied coldly. "Which means when we win the judgment, I will be legally entitled to attach a lien against every future wage, inheritance, or asset Christopher, Beatrice, or Veronica ever touches for the rest of their natural lives."
Arthur looked at me for a long moment, then shook his head in absolute admiration.
May you like
"Savannah, remind me never to get on your bad side."
"I was a good wife for seven years, Arthur," I said quietly, looking out the window at the Manhattan skyline. "I stood by him when he had nothing. I funded his dreams. I bore his mother’s insults. All I asked for was respect and loyalty. He gave me violence and extortion. Now, he gets the law."
