Chapter 240
Charla sat motionless, her mouth still working soundlessly. There was no defense left. Her own voice and the footage had condemned her.
Hilliard climbed the steps to the stage.
He didn’t look at Cailin. He walked directly to Charla.
“Hilliard.” Charla extended her good hand toward him, her voice dropping to a plea. “Baby… it’s a trick…”
Hilliard pushed her hand aside.
He lifted the microphone from the stand.
“The engagement is over,” he said. His voice carried through every corner of the lobby. “Holloway Group is severing all ties with English Holdings, effective immediately.” He looked down at Charla. “And we are filing charges for fraud, extortion, and the attempted murder of a child.”
Victoria let out a shriek and crumpled, collapsing into the arms of a startled nurse.
Gregg was already shouting into his phone, frantically trying to move assets before they could be frozen.
Cailin watched the chaos unfold around her. She felt a strange, hollow numbness settle in her chest. She had won. The truth was out, in front of every camera in the city.
But it didn’t restore the five years. It didn’t heal her shoulder. It didn’t undo what had been done.
She walked over to Charla.
Charla was trembling, her eyes fixed on the floor. Her world had collapsed in under three minutes.
“We had a bet,” Cailin said quietly.
Charla looked up. Her eyes were full of hatred and fear in equal measure.
“Kneel,” Cailin said.
“I won’t,” Charla whispered. “You can’t make me.”
“You made a promise,” Cailin said. “In front of all of them.” She gestured toward the cameras.
“I don’t care!” Charla hissed. “I am not kneeling to a whore!”
At that moment, one of the English family lawyers rushed onto the stage, his face pale and slick with sweat. He bent down and whispered frantically into Charla’s ear.
“Kneel, you idiot,” he hissed, his voice barely controlled. “This is your only play. The DA is on the phone. With that audio, they’ll deny bail. This is your one chance to perform remorse — kneel, or you’re sleeping at Rikers tonight.”
Cailin leaned in close, dropping her voice so only Charla could hear. “If you don’t kneel, I will release the other recording. The one from the boathouse. The one where you tell the kidnapper to ‘dispose of the package.’ ”
Charla went rigid.
“I don’t actually have that video,” Cailin admitted, the bluff delivered without a flicker. “But do you want to take that risk? Kidnapping carries a life sentence, Charla. Attempted murder is only twenty years. Show remorse now — maybe the judge will be lenient.”
Charla looked at the cameras. She looked at Hilliard’s cold back turned toward her. She looked at her father, who was already being restrained by security for assaulting Vance.
She was alone.
Slowly, with visible effort, Charla slid out of the wheelchair.
Her knees struck the hard tile with a dull crack. A thousand camera shutters fired at once — the sound like a swarm of locusts descending.
“I’m sorry,” Charla choked out, staring at Cailin’s red shoes.
“Louder,” Cailin said.