Chapter 3 - The Bail Battle
The next morning, despite the surgical pain tearing across my abdomen, I refused to stay in the hospital bed.
"I am going to that courthouse," I told the doctor firmly as he checked my C-section incision. "If Mark Vance sees my chair empty, he will think I am still afraid of him."
"Sarah, you had major abdominal surgery twenty-four hours ago," the doctor warned. "Your blood pressure is barely stable."
"I survived being buried alive in the mud, Doctor," I said, setting my feet on the floor. "I can survive a courtroom."
An hour later, dressed in a loose black dress that concealed my surgical bandages, I was wheeled into District Court Division 4 in a wheelchair, flanked by Victoria and Emma.
The courtroom was packed with local news reporters. The story of the "Garden Burial Assault" had leaked to the media, sparking national outrage.
Mark sat at the defense table in an orange inmate jumpsuit, his hands handcuffed to a heavy leather waist belt. Beside him sat his high-priced criminal attorney, Arthur Sterling—a man known for getting wealthy abusers off on technicalities. In the front row sat Mark’s parents, Richard and Eleanor Vance, looking at me with pure, unadulterated contempt.
When Mark turned and saw me roll into the room, his eyes widened slightly. The arrogant smirk he usually wore vanished, replaced by a momentary flicker of anxiety.
"All rise for the Honorable Judge Patricia Evans," the bailiff announced.
Judge Evans, a stern woman with sharp features and grey hair, took her bench. She flipped through the case file, her face growing darker with every page.
"We are here for the bail hearing of Mark Edward Vance," Judge Evans began. "Mr. Sterling, you may present your argument."
Sterling stood up, adjusting his silk tie smoothly. "Your Honor, my client is a respected business owner with no prior criminal record. While the events of two days ago were tragic, they were the result of a heated domestic dispute involving a deeply confused, postpartum-depressed woman. My client was merely attempting to restrain his wife from harming herself during a psychiatric breakdown. We request a reasonable bail of fifty thousand dollars."
I gripped the armrests of my wheelchair so hard my knuckles turned white.
Victoria stood up immediately. "Your Honor, that argument is not only absurd, it is actively fraudulent."
Victoria stepped toward the bench and placed a USB drive onto the evidence table.
"We submit into evidence Exhibit A," Victoria said, her voice ringing clearly across the courtroom. "The forty-seven-minute continuous recording taken from the victim's phone. In this recording, Mr. Vance clearly states, and I quote: 'You packed a bag. You hid your documents. And you think your sister is going to help you disappear with my child?' Followed immediately by the sound of physical blows and Mr. Vance threatening to leave Mrs. Vance buried in the ground until she yielded her financial inheritance."
A collective gasp swept through the gallery.
Mark’s lawyer frantically leaned over to whisper to Mark, whose face had gone completely pale.
"Furthermore," Victoria continued, turning to look directly at Mark’s parents, "we have filed formal charges with the State Attorney for grand larceny, financial forgery, and corporate embezzlement involving three million dollars stolen from Mrs. Vance’s family trust."
Judge Evans looked down at Mark from her bench, her eyes cold as ice. She picked up her wooden gavel.
"Mr. Vance," Judge Evans said, her voice dripping with disgust. "You represent an extreme danger to the victim, to your infant child, and to the community at large. Your attempt to frame a severely injured pregnant woman as mentally incompetent while physically tormenting her is barbaric."
"Your Honor, please!" Mark blurted out, trying to stand up, but the bailiffs shoved him back into his seat. "She set me up! She orchestrated this whole thing to take my money!"
"Silence!" Judge Evans slammed the gavel down with a deafening crack.
"Bail is denied," Judge Evans ruled. "The defendant will remain in custody at the County Correctional Facility pending trial. A temporary emergency restraining order is issued, effective immediately, barring the defendant and his associates from coming within one thousand feet of Sarah Vance or her infant daughter."
As the bailiffs grabbed Mark to lead him out through the side door, he turned toward me, his face twisted into a mask of rage.
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"You think you won, Sarah?!" Mark screamed, his voice echoing off the mahogany walls as he thraced against his chains. "You won't last a month without my money! My father will destroy you! You hear me?! You’ll rot!"
I sat in my wheelchair, looking him dead in the eye, and didn't utter a word. I didn't need to. The sound of his chains dragging across the floor was the only answer that mattered.
