286 "The pregnant woman tumbled down the stairs. But the attacker was the one who cried.

Three months later.

The crisp autumn air of October carried the scent of woodsmoke and turning leaves. We had moved into a temporary luxury cottage in Maine while the construction of our permanent coastal home was underway. My pregnancy had reached full term, and every day felt like a beautiful, calm countdown to the arrival of our daughter.

But a cornered beast never dies quietly.

While Victoria was awaiting her final sentencing in the high-security ward, her defense attorney, Victor Cross, made one last, desperate attempt to salvage his career and his client’s freedom. He launched a massive, coordinated media smear campaign against me, releasing heavily doctored audio snippets to social media platforms, trying to paint me as a manipulative, cold-hearted villain who had orchestrated the entire staircase incident to bankrupt the Sterling family.

The Facebook videos went viral overnight, garnering millions of views and thousands of angry, confused comments from people who didn't know the full story. High-society bloggers began analyzing the footage, questioning my integrity, and demanding that the state reopen the investigation into my character.

"They're trying to win the trial in the court of public opinion because they know they've lost it in the court of law," I said, sitting at our kitchen island, scrolling through the vicious comments on my laptop.

Julian walked over, immediately closing the laptop screen. "Maddy, stop reading that garbage. You don't have to prove anything to anyone. The trial starts in two days, and the unedited video will be played before a jury. The public will see the truth."

"I know," I said, suddenly gasping as a sharp, tight wave of pressure squeezed my lower abdomen. I clutched the edge of the marble counter, my breath catching in my throat.

Julian froze, his eyes widening. "Maddy? What is it? Is it a contraction?"

"I... I think so," I whispered, a warm fluid suddenly soaking through my leggings and pooling onto the floor. "Julian... my water just broke."

Julian’s corporate calm shattered instantly into frantic, loving panic. "Okay, okay. The hospital bag is in the car. I’m calling Dr. Chen. Don't worry, sweet girl, everything is ready."

As he helped me toward the front door, my phone, which was resting on the counter, suddenly buzzed with a notification. It was a direct message from an unknown account. I clicked it open against my better judgment.

It was a live-stream link. The broadcast showed a chaotic scene at the downtown women's correctional facility. A massive fire had just broken out in the medical wing, and prisoners were being evacuated into transport vans in the middle of the smoke and confusion.