Chapter 4 - The Footage on the Screen
The entire ballroom gasped in unison.
On the giant overhead screens, the silent, horrifying video played out in excruciating detail. There was Adrian, wearing his expensive silk pajamas, screaming into my face before shoving me so hard against the kitchen counter that I knocked over a glass pitcher. There was the distinct motion of his hand swinging backward, striking my cheek so hard my head snapped to the side.
Then came the audio, wired directly into the master sound system.
“You worthless little bitch!” Adrian’s voice boomed through the high-end speakers, echoing off the crystal chandeliers and bouncing off the walls of the terrified, silent crowd. “If you ever question my schedule again, I’ll make sure your father’s medical bills triple by tomorrow morning!”
At our VIP table, Adrian froze.
The color drained entirely from his face, leaving him a ghastly, chalky white. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He looked up at the screen, then down at his hands, as if he had just been electrocuted.
"Turn that off!" Adrian screamed, his voice cracking wildly as he lunged toward the stage. "That's a deepfake! It's a digital manipulation!"
Security guards materialized instantly from the shadows, stepping in front of Adrian and forcing him back down into his chair with crushing force.
Up on the podium, Ethan Carter didn't even flinch. He rested his hands calmly on the edges of the podium, looking down at the disgraced surgeon with cold, unyielding contempt.
"It's not a deepfake, Dr. Vaughn," Ethan said into the microphone, his voice cutting through the rising panic of the room like a razor. "That footage was pulled directly from the private hallway cameras of your building. Cameras that my security team installed and monitored after receiving an anonymous distress signal earlier this evening."
Murmurs exploded into outright shouting. Reporters in the back rows frantically lifted their cameras, blinding flashes of light illuminating Adrian's panicked, sweating face. Senator Collins dropped his napkin onto his plate, looking at Adrian as if he were looking at a corpse.
I sat frozen in my chair.
For six months, I had believed I was trapped. I had believed Adrian's lies that he was untouchable, that nobody would ever believe a stressed assistant over a miracle surgeon. And yet, here it was—laid bare for five hundred of the most powerful people in the city to see.
Adrian turned his head slowly, his blue eyes turning bloodshot and venomous as he glared down at me.
"You," he hissed, his voice trembling with a psychotic rage. "You bitch. You set me up."
Before I could flinch, Adrian’s hand shot across the table, his fingers lunging to grab a heavy, jagged crystal water pitcher.
"Ava, move!" a voice roared from across the table.
Before Adrian could lift the glass to hurl it at my head, a heavy shadow collided with him.
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Ethan Carter had sprinted off the stage, vaulted over the edge of the VIP platform, and tackled Adrian straight out of his chair.
The two men crashed violently onto the marble floor, scattering silverware and shattering wine glasses across the white tablecloth.
