Chapter 5 - The Fall of the House of Blackwood
The trial of The United States v. Evelyn Thorne-Blackwood became the sensation of the year.
The courtroom was packed to capacity with reporters, cameras, and spectators. Evelyn sat at the defense table dressed in an expensive navy suit, her hair perfectly styled, acting as though she were attending a dull charity committee meeting. Beside her sat her defense team—five of the country's most notorious defense attorneys.
On the prosecution side sat Alexander Vance, alongside the United States Attorney. Elena sat in the front row of the gallery, composed, radiant, and wearing a sleek burgundy dress that exposed her upper arm—where her continuous glucose monitor sat proudly in plain view.
She was no longer hiding.
When Evelyn was called to the stand to testify in her own defense, her chief counsel spun a fairy tale of an overbearing mother-in-law simply trying to handle an "unstable, attention-seeking young woman."
"Mrs. Blackwood," the defense attorney asked, "did you intentionally poison Miss Elena?"
"Of course not," Evelyn lied smoothly, smiling warmly at the jury. "I was merely trying to calm her down. She was shouting, causing a scene at my eldest son's wedding. I offered her a glass of wine to help her relax. I had no idea she would suffer such a violent allergic reaction."
"And the vial found at the scene?"
"It belonged to Elena," Evelyn said without flinching. "She dropped it from her clutch when she collapsed."
Alexander stood up slowly, adjusting his jacket. He walked toward the witness stand with calm, deliberate steps.
"Mrs. Blackwood," Alexander began, his voice echoing through the silent courtroom. "You claim the vial belonged to Miss Elena?"
"I do."
"Interesting," Alexander said. He picked up a folder from the prosecution table and opened it. "Because we performed DNA and fingerprint analysis on the amber vial. Do you know whose fingerprints were on the glass?"
Evelyn’s smile faltered slightly. "My hands were near it when it fell—"
"Your fingerprints were on the cap, the body, and the inner lip of the vial," Alexander interrupted sharply. "Elena’s fingerprints were nowhere on it. Furthermore, we traced the batch number of that synthetic toxin directly to a order placed six weeks ago by your personal secretary, paid for via your private account."
The defense table erupted in objections, but the judge overruled them instantly.
Alexander stepped closer to the stand, his gaze burning through Evelyn. "And what about the insulin pump? You claimed in your police statement that it fell accidentally?"
"It caught on my dress," Evelyn snapped, her composure beginning to crack.
Alexander clicked a remote control on the podium. A massive high-definition screen mounted on the courtroom wall flickered to life.
It was security footage from Bellefleur Manor—retrieved from a hidden security backup that the Blackwoods had failed to erase.
The video played in crystal clarity: Evelyn gripping the tubing at Elena’s waist, violently yanking it away, laughing as Elena bled, and triumphantly hurling the pump into the trash bin filled with waste.
The entire courtroom gasped. Journalists began furiously typing on their laptops.
Evelyn’s face drained of all color. She gripped the edges of the witness stand, her pristine facade crumbling into ugly, unhinged rage.
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"She was a nobody!" Evelyn suddenly screamed, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at Elena. "She was trash! She didn't belong in my family! She was going to ruin my sons' futures with her weakness and her pathetic sickness! I built the Blackwood name! I will not let a sickly little charity case tear it down!"
"No further questions, Your Honor," Alexander said softly, turning his back on her.
