Chapter 4 - The Boardroom and the Cell
Four days later, I was moved from the Intensive Care Unit to a private, guarded room on the top floor of the surgical pavilion. Two armed state troopers stood posted outside my wooden door twenty-four hours a day, keeping the hordes of paparazzi, corporate investigators, and Vance Global PR representatives at bay.
The news had exploded across the national media like a nuclear blast.
CEO OF VANCE GLOBAL ACCUSED OF ATTEMPTED MURDER OF WIFE. THE SEC INVESTIGATES VANCE GLOBAL AMID CEO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE ARREST. WHERE IS SELINA COLE? THE MYSTERY WOMAN AT THE CENTER OF THE VANCE TRAGEDY.
Julian had not been allowed back into the hospital. Instead, he had spent the last seventy-two hours holed up in his high-rise penthouse suite in the financial district, surrounded by a team of seven criminal defense attorneys charging twelve hundred dollars an hour.
I sat up in my hospital bed, supported by three foam pillows, a warm cup of herbal tea resting on my rolling tray. My physical recovery was slow and agonizing—every movement of my core muscles felt like a hot iron pressing against my stitched intestines—but my mind was sharper than it had been in three years.
The door opened quietly, and Dr. Caleb Reed walked in, accompanied by a woman in a sharp dark blue pantsuit carrying a heavy leather briefcase. She had short silver hair, piercing green eyes, and an aura of absolute, uncompromising legal lethality.
"Nora," Caleb said, introducing her with a brief nod. "This is Assistant District Attorney Victoria Vance—no relation to your husband, ironic as it is. She is leading the state’s criminal prosecution against Julian."
Victoria Vance set her briefcase on the visitor's chair, opened it with two crisp snaps, and pulled out a digital tablet alongside a stack of legal documents.
"Mrs. Vance," Victoria said, her voice like smooth gravel. "I’ll cut straight to the point. Your smartwatch recording is the single most clean, devastating piece of digital evidence I have seen in twenty years of prosecution. We have Julian’s voice confirming the act, confirming his motive, and confirming he knew what he did. We also have the forensic blood analysis from the Persian rug, matching the exact blade width of the paring knife recovered from his sink."
"What about Selina?" I asked, my voice holding no emotion.
Victoria smiled—a cold, sharp expression. "Ms. Cole attempted to board a private flight to Dubai yesterday evening from Teterboro Airport. Federal marshals intercepted her at the tarmac. She is currently being held at the county detention center without bail as an accessory to attempted murder and obstruction of justice."
A faint, deep breath escaped my chest. "And Julian?"
"Julian was taken into custody two hours ago at his office," Victoria replied. "He attempted to call an emergency board meeting to vote himself a hundred-million-dollar severance package before the indictment landed. The board refused to see him. In fact, three board members surrendered his corporate email servers to the FBI this morning."
She tapped her digital tablet, pulling up a live news broadcast from the federal courthouse downtown.
The screen showed a chaotic scene on the granite courthouse steps. Dozens of news cameras were flashing violently as two uniformed federal marshals escorted a man down the steps in iron handcuffs.
It was Julian.
He wore a crumpled blue suit without a tie. His wrists were chained tightly to a leather belt around his waist. His face was pale, his eyes wide with disbelieving shock as reporters screamed questions at him from behind the metal barricades.
"Julian! Did you stab your pregnant wife?!" "Did Selina Cole tell you to kill her?!" "Are you stepping down as CEO?!"
Julian kept his head down, trying to avoid the cameras, but as he reached the back of the black armored transport van, he looked directly into the lens of the primary news camera.
He looked broken, stripped of his wealth, stripped of his authority, stripped of the terrifying power he had wielded over me in that living room.
"He tried to post bail using his company stock options," Victoria added, closing her tablet. "The judge denied it. He will remain in federal custody until the trial begins in two months."
I looked out the hospital window at the bright morning sun reflecting off the glass skyscrapers of the city.
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"It's not over yet, Victoria," I said quietly, turning back to the prosecutor. "Julian isn't the type to sit in a cell and admit defeat. He built an empire by destroying anyone who stood in his way. He will try to destroy me from behind those bars."
"Let him try," Caleb said, stepping up beside my bed, his hand coming to rest reassuringly on the back of my chair. "He’s no longer dealing with a woman trapped in a silk pajama set, Nora. He’s dealing with a survivor who has the entire legal system standing behind her."
