Chapter 8: The Price of Treason
Two weeks later, the scandal had dominated national news outlets across America. Headlines from the New York Post to The Wall Street Journal splashed the story across front pages: CONNECTICUT MANSION HORROR: HEIR’S WIFE ARRESTED FOR ELDER SHOVE CAPTURED ON 4K CAMERA.
In the high-security precinct in Hartford, Connecticut, Victoria sat in a cold, concrete visitation room, wearing an orange jumpsuit instead of her emerald velvet gown. Her blonde hair was unwashed, pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her manicured nails were chipped and filthy.
The heavy steel door unlocked, and James walked in. He was impeccably dressed in a dark grey suit, holding a simple Manila envelope. He sat down across the metal table from her without saying a word.
"James!" Victoria cried out, leaning forward, her eyes wide with desperate hope. "You came! I knew you’d come! Please, you have to talk to the prosecutor! Tell them it was a mistake! Tell them we can work this out!"
James looked at her with a coldness that chilled her to the bone. "I didn't come here to save you, Victoria. I came to deliver this."
He slid the Manila envelope across the table. Victoria opened it with trembling fingers. Inside were divorce papers, paired with an absolute forfeiture of all prenuptial claims and a civil lawsuit stripping her of every asset she had ever owned.
"You took everything from me!" Victoria hissed, her desperate act disappearing, replaced by bitter, ugly venom. "I spent three years playing the dutiful wife to you and your pathetic mother! I deserved that fortune!"
"You deserved nothing," James answered calmly. "You entered my home as a thief, treated my mother like trash, and thought you could destroy our family from within. The grand jury met this morning. You are being charged with attempted murder in the second degree."
Victoria’s breath hitched. "Attempted murder?! That’s absurd! I just pushed her!"
"On a solid marble staircase," James countered sharply. "With intent to cause lethal harm. You are facing twenty-five years without parole. Enjoy your new estate, Victoria."
James stood up, buttoned his jacket, and turned to walk toward the door.
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"James! Don't leave me!" she shrieked, banging her handcuffed wrists against the metal table. "James! Look at me!"
James didn't turn around. The heavy steel door closed behind him with a final, echoing thud.
