Chapter 7: The Trial of Public Opinion
The main auditorium of Saint Aurelia Medical Center was packed to the gills with reporters, flashing cameras, and live-streaming setups.
Dominic and Natalie sat in the front row, invited explicitly by Marcus Stone. Dominic wore a cheap, borrowed suit, trying to look as pitiful as possible, while Natalie wore no makeup, highlighting her pale face to maximize public sympathy. They looked at each other with hidden triumph; they believed they had successfully forced the Vance family to offer a massive, multi-million-dollar settlement to save their corporate image.
At exactly 10:00 AM, the lights dimmed.
Audrey walked onto the stage. She wasn't pushed in a wheelchair. She walked with a firm, elegant stride, wearing a pristine white blazer. She stood behind the podium, looking directly into the sea of flashing cameras.
"Thank you all for coming," Audrey said, her voice echoing clearly through the microphone. "Over the past twenty-four hours, many statements have been made regarding my marriage, my character, and the birth of my children. I believe in total transparency. So instead of a legal statement, I would like to show you the actual events of Tuesday night."
Dominic froze. What events? The NICU didn't have cameras... did it?
A massive projector screen descended behind Audrey.
The screen flickered to life, showing high-definition security footage from inside the NICU isolation anteroom on Tuesday night. The audio was crystal clear.
The entire room watched as Dominic tossed a folder onto Audrey’s lap. They heard his voice echo through the auditorium: “I closed the joint accounts. I canceled your credit cards. The apartment lease is under my name. You and those little runts can figure things out without me.”
A collective, horrified gasp rippled through the press corps.
The video continued, showing Natalie smiling smugly in the ivory cashmere coat, saying, “Don't cause unnecessary drama. Stress isn't good for babies this fragile.” Then it showed Dominic’s cruel sneer: “Try calling a homeless shelter.”
But Audrey wasn't done.
"Next slide, please," she said calmly.
The screen changed to show a certified medical report and a bank statement.
"This is my medical chart," Audrey announced. "I was in a medically induced coma for forty-eight hours following a severe placental abruption that nearly cost my life and the lives of my twins. While I was unconscious, my husband, Dominic Miller, used my pre-signed medical authorization to withdraw $200,000 from my private inheritance trust. He used that money to pay off the mortgage of a luxury penthouse for his mistress, Natalie, which was purchased three months before my children were even born."
The auditorium erupted into absolute chaos. Reporters stood up, screaming questions, their cameras panning violently from the screen down to Dominic and Natalie.
Dominic’s face was completely drained of color. He looked like a man standing in front of a firing squad. Natalie buried her face in her hands, sobbing—this time with real, terrifying panic.
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"I signed the divorce papers because my grandfather taught me a valuable lesson," Audrey said, her voice rising above the din, commanding absolute silence. "People reveal their true character when they believe you have nothing left to lose. Dominic Miller didn't care about my children when he thought they were poor. He only cares no
w because he realizes their names are Vance."
