Chapter 7 - The Salute that Shattered the CrownThe trial of Vanessa Vale was a quiet, clinical affair compared to the dramatic explosion of her party.
Without her family’s wealth and her high-society connections, she looked small, pale, and defeated in the defendant's chair. She wore a simple, dark suit, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, her eyes hollow.
When I took the stand to testify about the financial tracking, the courtroom was packed with journalists. I wore a simple navy blue blazer, my posture tall and proud, the scar beneath my ribs safely covered but no longer a secret I was afraid of.
I laid out the transaction logs with the precision of an accountant and the authority of a detective.
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"The defendant believed that her social status made her invisible," I told the judge. "She believed that by fabricating a story of disgrace about my service to this city, she could distract from her own criminal activity. But numbers, like bullet wounds, leave a permanent record."
When the judge handed down a fifteen-year sentence without parole, Vanessa didn't scream or cry. She simply stared at her hands, realizing that the gilded crown she had worn her entire life had finally shattered into pieces.
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