Chapter 7 - The Final Desperate Move
The criminal trial began in early spring. The local media had seized on the story, framing it as the downfall of a prominent local dynasty that had been exposed as a ruthless criminal network.
Theresa Miller had been forced to sell her sprawling mansion to pay for her team of defense attorneys, but as the evidence mounted, even her expensive lawyers couldn't stop the avalanche.
On a cold Tuesday morning in April, Grace was scheduled to give her victim impact statement and testify regarding the financial coercion and the events on the morning of her mother's death.
As Grace walked up the stone steps of the county courthouse accompanied by Marcus Vance, a swarm of news reporters and photographers shouted questions from behind police barricades. Grace kept her head high, staring straight ahead, wearing a dignified black suit.
Just outside the main court doors, a figure stepped out from behind a marble pillar.
It was Oscar.
He looked unrecognizable. The sharp, arrogant man who had worn designer suits and looked down on Grace was gone. He had lost weight, his clothes hung loosely on his frame, his face was pale and unshaven, and his eyes were bloodshot with desperation. He was out on electronic monitoring, waiting for his final verdict.
"Grace," Oscar choked out, stepping toward her, his hands raised pleadingly. His lawyer tried to pull him back, but Oscar shoved him away. "Grace, please, just give me two minutes! Please!"
Marcus immediately stepped between them, his hand on his fold-out cane, ready to defend Grace, but Grace held up a hand, stopping Marcus.
"It's fine, Marcus," Grace said coldly. She looked at Oscar without a trace of fear or longing. "What do you want, Oscar?"
"Grace... you have to tell the prosecutor to drop the charges against me," Oscar sobbed, tears spilling down his hollow cheeks. "My mother... she manipulated me! You know how she is! She forced me to do everything! She forced me to borrow Paula’s car! She forced me to lie to you! I loved your mother, Grace! You know I did!"
Grace stared at him, listening to the shameless lies spilling from his lips.
"You loved my mother?" Grace said, her voice dropping into a register that made Oscar flinch. "While my mother’s body was lying in the cold rain on the pavement, you were sitting in our kitchen drinking beer with your family. While my daughter went to sleep hungry eating crackers, you were laughing about Paula’s birthday party. You didn't even call me to ask if I had eaten, Oscar."
"I was terrified!" Oscar cried out, reaching toward her coat. "I made a mistake! Grace, I’m your husband! We have a daughter together! You can't let them send me to prison for twenty years! Camila needs her father!"
Grace stepped closer to him, looking straight into his bloodshot eyes.
"Camila doesn't need a coward who helped murder her grandmother and tried to throw her mother into the street," Grace said, her voice crystal clear, echoed by the tall stone walls of the courthouse corridor. "You are not her father anymore, Oscar. You are just a dangerous memory she will eventually forget."
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Oscar stared at her, his jaw trembling, realizing for the first time that no amount of tears, manipulation, or gaslighting would ever work on her again. The timid, quiet woman he had controlled for six years was gone forever.
"Take your seat in the courtroom, Mr. Miller," Marcus Vance said sternly as two court officers approached to pull Oscar back. "Your trial is about to begin."
