Chapter 5 - The Public Exorcism
The courtroom of the New York State Supreme Court was packed to capacity on the first morning of the trial. The financial press, high-society gossip columnists, and public observers crowded the benches, their eyes darting between the prosecution and defense tables.
Dominic sat at the defense table, wearing a poorly fitting grey suit provided by the state. His hair was uncombed, his skin pasty, his eyes sunken from three weeks in a holding facility before his family’s assets were entirely frozen. Beside him sat his mother, Victoria, and his sister, Natalie, both dressed in black, looking like two ravens waiting for a carcass.
I sat at the prosecution table, flanked by Evelyn Pierce and Detective Park. I wore a tailored, high-necked cream wool blazer, my posture elegant, my face calm and controlled. The mark on my cheek had faded into a faint, microscopic scar, but I wore no makeup to hide it. It was my badge of honor, the physical proof of the night I broke my chains.
“The prosecution may call its next witness,” Judge Henderson announced from the bench.
Evelyn Pierce stood up, her voice ringing through the silent courtroom. “The state calls Chloe Mitchell.”
A collective murmur went through the gallery as Chloe stepped through the double oak doors. She was a young, fragile-looking woman, her head down, her hands trembling as she took her place on the witness stand. She didn't look at Dominic, but Dominic’s eyes fixed on her with a sudden, terrifying intensity, his jaw clenching so hard I could hear the grinding of his teeth from across the aisle.
“Ms. Mitchell,” Evelyn began, pacing before the stand. “Can you describe your relationship with the defendant, Dominic Vance, during the six months prior to his arrest?”
“I... I was his assistant at Crestwood Design,” Chloe whispered, her voice shaking but clear. “And we were having an affair. He told me he loved me, and that his marriage to Audrey was just a business arrangement. He said Audrey was mentally unstable and that he needed to protect the company from her.”
“And did the defendant ask you to perform any specific corporate duties outside your official job description?” Evelyn asked.
“Yes,” Chloe said, tears finally spilling over her eyelashes. “He gave me a keylogger device and told me to install it on Audrey’s personal tablet in her design studio. He said it was to monitor her 'episodes' to keep her safe. But later, I realized he was using it to capture her private trust account passwords and authorize the wire transfers to his mother’s shell company.”
“Objection!” Dominic’s defense attorney screamed, jumping out of his chair. “This is pure speculation! The witness has no technical expertise to verify how the data was used!”
“Overruled,” Judge Henderson snapped, her gaze fixing on Dominic with a cold, disgusted severity. “The digital forensics unit has already verified the source of the keylogger installation. Proceed, Ms. Pierce.”
Evelyn turned to the jury box, her voice dropping into a powerful, dramatic register. “Ms. Mitchell, did you ever witness the defendant use physical violence against his wife?”
“No,” Chloe sobbed, looking at her hands. “But he boasted about it. He told me that Audrey was like a wild horse that needed to be trained. He said that if she ever tried to leave him, he would make sure she ended up in a psychiatric facility where nobody would believe her.”
The gallery gasped. Victoria sat back in her chair, covering her face with her gloved hands, while Natalie began frantically whispering to their defense attorney.
I looked across the aisle at Dominic. He was staring at the table, his shoulders shaking, his unearned corporate confidence entirely reduced to ash. He had spent two years believing he was the smartest man in every room, that his charm and his family’s name would protect him from the consequences of his cruelty. But today, the spotlight was too bright, and the shadow he had cast over my life was completely gone.
“The witness is excused,” Judge Henderson said. She looked at the jury, her expression grim. “We will now recess for the afternoon. The jury will return tomorrow morning with a verdict.”
As the court officers stepped forward to lead Dominic back to the holding cells, he suddenly broke away from their grip, lunging toward the prosecution table. His face was contorted in a wild, desperate panic, his hands reaching out toward me.
“Audrey! Please!” Dominic screamed, his voice cracking as the officers slammed him against the wooden railing, clicking his handcuffs back into place. “Don't do this to me! I made mistakes, but we can fix this! If you drop the charges, I’ll sign over everything! I’ll leave the country! Just don't let them send me to state prison!”
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I stood up from my chair, adjusting my cream blazer. I looked down at him from the other side of the railing. I didn't yell. I didn't cry. I simply looked at him with the cold, dispassionate gaze of a landlord looking at a tenant who had defaulted on their lease.
“The court is in session, Dominic,” I said softly. “And your lease is officially expired.”
