Chapter 7 - THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF PRESCOTT
The trial was a media sensation, dubbed the "Billionaire Baby Swindle" by the national press. But for me, it was merely the final chapter of a closed book.
I took the stand only once. I wore a simple, elegant grey dress. I didn't look at Damian or Constance. I looked directly at the jury. I told them about the paperwork pushed across the kitchen table. I told them about the cancelled insurance, the freezing apartment, and the terror of driving myself to the hospital in a blizzard. And then, I walked them through the undeniable, airtight evidence of their financial and medical crimes.
Constance tried to maintain her aristocratic dignity, but as the trial wore on, her facade cracked. She looked haggard, her designer suits hanging loosely on her frame. Damian refused to look at me entirely, his head bowed, his spirit broken.
The verdict was unanimous. Guilty on all counts.
When the judge handed down the sentences—seven years for Damian, twelve for Constance without the possibility of early parole—there was no triumphant cheering from me. I simply stood up, took Julian’s hand, and walked out of the courtroom. We walked out of the suffocating atmosphere of the courthouse and into the bright, crisp spring air of Nebraska.
Justice had a specific price, and the Prescotts were finally paying it.
As part of the civil suit our lawyers filed alongside the criminal case, the Prescott Trust was ordered to pay me massive punitive damages for the emotional distress and medical malpractice orchestrated by Constance. Furthermore, because Damian had formally claimed the pregnancy in the initial trust documents before the divorce, a judge ruled that Leo was the legal beneficiary of the grandfather's educational trust—a trust entirely managed by me, out of Damian's reach.
I went from scrubbing floors at midnight to being a multi-millionaire, but the money didn't matter to me. What mattered was the absolute security it provided for my son.
I used a portion of the settlement to buy the Omaha Genetics Institute. I fired the remaining corrupt board members, installed strict ethical oversight committees, and converted half the clinic into a subsidized fertility center for low-income families. I ensured that no woman would ever be manipulated or violated within those walls again.
I took the pain they had inflicted upon me and turned it into a sanctuary for others.
"You're a terrifying woman, Amelia Vance," Julian said to me one afternoon, as we stood in the newly renovated lobby of the clinic, watching families check-in.
"Vance?" I asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.
"Well," Julian smiled, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. "I was hoping we could make it official. No grand gestures, no billion-dollar contracts. Just me, you, and Leo."
He opened the box, revealing a stunning, simple diamond ring.
May you like
I laughed, a bright, clear sound that echoed in the sunny lobby. I didn't hesitate. I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. "Yes," I said against his lips. "Absolutely, yes."
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