197 Victoria Montgomery smiled as she pressed the pillow harder against her daughter-in-law's face inside a private hospital room in Manhattan. The blinds were half open, and the sharp scent of disinfectant mixed with the expensive perfume she always wore.

The Federal District Court in Manhattan was packed to the rafters.

The media had dubbed it "The Fall of the House of Montgomery." Outside the courthouse, reporters stood in the pouring rain, their umbrellas forming a sea of black as they shouted questions into television cameras. Inside, the mahogany-paneled courtroom was thick with the scent of wet wool, expensive cologne, and palpable tension.

Victoria Montgomery sat at the defense table.

She no longer looked like the untouchable queen of the Upper East Side. Though she wore a conservative navy-blue suit, her hair was simple, and the lack of her trademark diamond jewelry made her look smaller, older, and strangely fragile. But her eyes were still cold, darting around the room like a trapped predator.

Beside her sat Ethan.

He looked completely broken. He had lost weight, his expensive suit hanging loosely on his shoulders. He stared at his hands, refusing to look at the gallery or the jury.

At the prosecution table sat Marcus Sterling and the lead federal prosecutor, a sharp, unyielding woman named Evelyn Vance.

"All rise!" the bailiff called out.

Judge Arthur Pendleton, a man known for his zero-tolerance policy toward corporate greed and white-collar crime, took his seat. He looked down at the defense table with an expression of stern disapproval.

"We are here today for the opening statements in the case of the United States versus Victoria and Ethan Montgomery," Judge Pendleton said. "Is the prosecution ready?"

"Ready, Your Honor," Evelyn Vance said, standing up.

Before she could speak, the double doors at the back of the courtroom opened.

A collective gasp echoed through the gallery. The reporters in the back row scrambled to write on their pads.

Emily was wheeled into the courtroom.

She was no longer in the full body cast, but she sat in a specialized, high-backed motorized wheelchair. She wore a simple, elegant cream-colored pantsuit. Her face was pale, but her posture was regal, her head held high. She looked directly at Victoria as she was wheeled to the front of the courtroom, taking her place next to the prosecution table.

Victoria’s jaw tightened, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her pen. Ethan let out a soft, choked sob and covered his face with his hands.

"Your Honor," Victoria’s lead attorney, a high-priced defender named Richard Sterling (no relation to Marcus), stood up. "My client objects to this dramatic display. The plaintiff is clearly exaggerating her injuries to play on the sympathy of the jury. She is perfectly capable of walking."

"Mr. Sterling," Judge Pendleton warned, his voice like thunder. "The medical reports from the court-appointed physicians clearly state that the victim suffered three fractured vertebrae and is currently undergoing intensive physical therapy to regain the full use of her legs. Sit down before I hold you in contempt."

The attorney sat down, his face flushing red.

Evelyn Vance stepped to the center of the courtroom, facing the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Vance began, her voice ringing clear and true. "This is not a case about a tragic accident. This is a case about absolute greed, cold-blooded betrayal, and a family that believed their wealth made them gods."

For the next three days, the prosecution laid out its case with devastating, surgical precision.

They played the hospital video. The courtroom was dead silent as Victoria’s whispered words—"You should have died when you fell, you worthless little nobody"—echoed through the high-ceilinged room. Several jurors gasped, looking at Victoria with expressions of utter disgust.

They presented the testimony of Sarah Mitchell, who described the atmosphere of fear and control that surrounded Emily’s hospital room.