Chapter 8 - The Trial of the Century
Two months later, the Manhattan Criminal Court was packed with reporters, photographers, and high-profile figures from across the state.
Julian Cross sat at the defense table, wearing an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit. His hair was messy, his face gaunt, and his hands were chained to his waist. His high-priced lawyers looked exhausted, struggling under the mountain of evidence Elias’s legal team had dumped onto the prosecutor's desk.
I sat in the front row of the gallery, wearing a tailored navy-blue dress, my hair swept up in an elegant style. Beside me sat Elias in a charcoal suit, his broad shoulders filling the space, his hand firmly holding mine under the wooden partition.
"State calls Ava Miller to the stand," the bailiff announced.
A murmur ran through the courtroom. Julian snapped his head around, his dark eyes glaring at me with a mixture of hatred and desperation. Two months ago, I would have trembled under that look. Today, holding Elias’s hand, I felt nothing but ice.
I stood up, adjusting my jacket, and walked calmly to the witness stand. I swore the oath, sat down, and looked directly at the jury.
For the next two hours, the prosecutor led me through the nightmare of my marriage. I spoke clearly, my voice unwavering, detailing the years of physical emotional abuse, the night I gave birth to Maya and Lily without medical help, and the horrific moment Julian dragged me out into the sub-zero storm and left me to die beneath the overpass.
"Mrs. Miller," the prosecutor said gently. "Did your husband make any statement to you before discarding you?"
"He told me that daughters were a curse," I said, my voice echoing across the silent courtroom. "He said they weren't worth the bread it took to feed them, and that if I couldn't give him a son to inherit his family's money, I had no right to live."
A gasp rippled through the spectators. Several jurors shook their heads in disgust.
Julian’s lawyer stood up hastily. "Objection! The witness is attempting to appeal to the jury's sympathy without corroborating physical evidence!"
"Overruled," the judge snapped, glaring at the defense table. "The prosecution has already submitted the medical reports from the night the victim was admitted to St. Jude’s Private Hospital."
The prosecutor turned back to me. "And how did you survive that night, Ava?"
I looked away from the jury and locked eyes with Elias, who sat in the front row, his gaze filled with immense pride.
"A real man found us," I said softly, but with absolute conviction. "Elias Vance stopped his car in the middle of a blizzard. He wrapped my babies in his own coat, carried me into his arms, and gave us a home. He showed me what a true father and protector looks like."
Julian suddenly leaped from his chair, rattling his chains violently. "She's lying! She's a whore sleeping with a mobster! She set me up!"
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"Order in the court!" the judge shouted, slamming his gavel repeated. "Guards, restrain the defendant!"
Four bailiffs tackled Julian back into his seat. I didn't even flinch. I sat calmly on the stand, watching my former tormentor squirm like a trapped rat, knowing that his reign of terror over my life was officially over.
