Chapter 6 - The Courtroom Illusion
The family court corridor smelled of old wax and anxiety. I sat on the wooden bench next to Mara, my back straight despite the sharp ache in my fractured ribs. I wore a high-collared navy blue blazer that completely concealed the handprints on my throat, and a pair of dark sunglasses to hide the healing contusions around my eye.
Adrian walked in down the hall, flanked by his lawyer, a sharp-faced man named Richard Vance (no relation, though they shared the same predatory look). Adrian looked clean-shaven, confident, and entirely at ease. When he caught sight of me, he gave a tiny, patronizing nod—the kind he used when I made a mistake in the household budget.
We entered the judge's chambers for the pre-hearing settlement conference. Judge Martha Higgins, a no-nonsense woman with thirty years on the bench, looked over the medical files and the temporary protective order.
"Mr. Vance," Judge Higgins began, looking directly at Adrian. "The medical reports from the intensive care unit are quite severe. Do you have a response to these allegations before we proceed to a formal record?"
Richard Vance stood up immediately. "Your Honor, my client maintains that this was a tragic domestic accident. Mrs. Vance has a history of vertigo, which we can document through pharmacy records of her inner-ear medication. However, to avoid a protracted, emotionally draining public dispute, my client is prepared to offer a comprehensive separation agreement that settles all property disputes immediately."
Mara stood up, placing a document on the judge’s desk. "We have already drafted the terms, Your Honor. Mrs. Julianne Vance will agree to a mutual, non-disclosure separation agreement and will decline to pursue further criminal complaints regarding the events of last Tuesday, under one strict condition."
Adrian leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "What condition?"
"You execute a full assignment of your sixty-two percent voting stock in Vanguard Consulting Inc. to Julianne, effective immediately," Mara said clearly. "You walk away from the corporation entirely."
Adrian’s lawyer laughed out loud. "That’s absurd! Vanguard is my client’s life’s work. He is the principal consultant."
But Adrian stayed quiet. I watched his eyes dart toward the briefcase on his lap. He was calculating. In his mind, Vanguard Inc. was compromised anyway because I had frozen the operating accounts, and the public contracts were wrapping up. He believed he had $600,000 sitting safely in the Nevada shell company under my father's name. If he signed over Vanguard Inc., he got rid of the domestic abuse charges, kept his freedom, and retained the stolen cash.
"Give me five minutes with my client," Richard Vance muttered, his arrogance faltering as Adrian tapped his arm.
They stepped into the hallway. Through the glass pane, I saw Adrian arguing fiercely with his attorney, gesturing wildly, before finally nodding.
When they returned, Adrian looked at me with a smirk that chilled me to the bone. "I’ll sign," he said. "If you want that dying company so badly, take it. Let’s see how well you run it without my face on the billboard."
He took the gold pen from his pocket and signed the transfer documents. The ink was barely dry when the judge ratified the settlement, dissolving his ownership of Vanguard Inc. on the spot.
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"We're done here," Adrian said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "Have a nice life, Julianne. Good luck paying the bills."
"Goodbye, Adrian," I said, removing my sunglasses for the first time. The sight of my black eye made him halt for a second, but I didn't look away. "Give my love to my parents."
