Chapter 8 - Cracks in the CrownThree months later, the federal trial of United States v. Adrian Vale and Celeste Vale commenced at the federal courthouse downtown.
It was the most publicized corporate trial of the decade.
The courtroom was packed to capacity with reporters, former employees, and curious onlookers. Adrian and Celeste sat at the defense table beside team of high-priced criminal defense attorneys.
They looked unrecognizably diminished. The three months in federal detention had stripped away their arrogant sheen. Adrian looked pale, gaunt, and hollow-eyed, while Celeste sat slumped in her chair, her expensive hair dye growing out, her hands trembling.
When I was called to the witness stand, the entire courtroom fell silent.
I walked up to the stand wearing a professional dark suit, my posture straight, my voice steady and clear.
For four hours, I testified. I didn't cry. I didn't break down. With mathematical precision, I walked the jury through hundreds of pages of financial logs, wiretap transcripts, medical scans, and photographic evidence.
The defense attorney tried to attack my credibility during cross-examination.
âMs. Evelyn,â the attorney sneered, stepping toward the witness box. âIsn't it true that you remained in Mr. Valeâs home for eleven months, enjoying his luxury lifestyle, before making these dramatic allegations at a public wedding?â
I looked the attorney straight in the eye.
May you like
âI remained in his home for eleven months because I was a prisoner, sir,â I replied, my voice echoing clearly through the courtroom. âAnd I used those eleven months to make sure that when I finally left, Adrian Vale would never be able to trap another woman in his cellar again.â
The jury stared at the defense table with expressions of pure disgust. The defense attorney sat down, completely unable to ask another question.
