CHAPTER 13 — THE TRIAL OF PRESTON HALE
CHAPTER 13 — THE TRIAL OF PRESTON HALE
“Preston!”
The gunshot never came.
Daniel's arm was suddenly knocked sideways.
The bullet struck the ceiling.
Catherine screamed.
I grabbed Sophie and dropped behind the bed.
Preston tackled Daniel.
The gun skidded across the floor.
For several seconds, the room was nothing but shouting, footsteps, and the sound of Sophie crying.
Then Daniel pinned Preston against the wall.
“Don't move!”
Preston stared at him.
“I wasn't going to shoot her.”
Daniel's eyes hardened.
“You pointed a gun at her.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“From whom?”
Preston looked at Catherine.
“She told me to.”
I froze.
Catherine stepped backward.
“I never told him to kill you.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Then why did you tell Elena to run?”
Catherine's face went pale.
“Because you were supposed to be the one she feared.”
Silence.
I looked at Daniel.
“What does that mean?”
He lowered his weapon.
“I don't know.”
Catherine whispered:
“Neither do I anymore.”
The police arrived twenty minutes later.
Not ordinary police.
Federal investigators.
The kind of people who didn't ask questions twice.
They had been waiting outside the hospital.
Catherine had called them before we arrived.
They arrested Preston.
I watched as they placed handcuffs around his wrists.
He looked at me.
“Believe me.”
I said nothing.
“Please.”
I looked down at Sophie.
She was holding my hand.
I couldn't decide whether I wanted to believe him.
Or whether believing him would destroy us.
As Preston was led away, he stopped.
“Whatever happens tomorrow, don't let them make you testify against me.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
He looked toward Daniel.
“Because this isn't my trial.”
Then he was gone.
The next morning, every news channel carried the same headline.
PRESTON HALE ARRESTED IN MULTIBILLION-DOLLAR FAMILY FRAUD AND ABDUCTION CASE
The story was everywhere.
Photographs of Preston.
Photographs of me.
Photographs of Sophie.
Photographs of the Whitmore family.
And beneath all of them:
WHO REALLY OWNS THE HALE-MORETTI EMPIRE?
I turned off the television.
My mother sat across from me.
“You need to testify.”
“Against Preston?”
“Against everyone.”
I looked at her.
“You were on the list.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I know.”
“Why?”
“I told you.”
“You were trying to protect me.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me the whole truth.”
She was silent.
“Mom.”
She finally looked up.
“I gave Thomas your father's location.”
I already knew.
“But why?”
“Because Catherine told me he was going to kill you.”
“And did he?”
“No.”
“Then why did he disappear?”
My mother began crying.
“Because he found out.”
“Found out what?”
“That I had betrayed him.”
I stared.
“He left because he thought I had chosen Thomas.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then what did you choose?”
She whispered:
“You.”
I didn't answer.
She continued.
“Your father wanted to destroy the Whitmores.”
“I know.”
“But he also wanted to expose everyone involved.”
“And?”
“I couldn't let him.”
“Why?”
“Because the evidence would have destroyed you too.”
I frowned.
“What evidence?”
She reached into her purse.
Pulled out a photograph.
My childhood bedroom.
And on the wall...
a family tree.
Names crossed out.
Names circled.
One name was circled in red.
PRESTON.
I looked at her.
“What is this?”
“The reason your father arranged your marriage.”
I felt sick.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Preston was his son.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he was connected to Thomas.”
“Yes.”
“And you still let me marry him.”
My mother whispered:
“Because your father believed Preston could protect you.”
I shook my head.
“He was supposed to kill me.”
“No.”
“Catherine said—”
“Catherine lies.”
I froze.
“Why?”
“Because Catherine has spent thirty years hiding the truth.”
“What truth?”
My mother looked toward the door.
“The trial will show you.”
The courtroom was packed.
Reporters.
Lawyers.
Shareholders.
Family members.
People who had never spoken to me in years suddenly wanted to sit close.
Preston entered in handcuffs.
He looked exhausted.
But calm.
He looked at me.
I looked away.
The prosecutor stood.
“Mr. Hale is accused of participating in an international conspiracy involving fraud, unlawful seizure of assets, kidnapping, and attempted murder.”
Preston's attorney rose.
“My client denies all charges.”
The judge looked toward the gallery.
“Order.”
Then the prosecutor turned toward me.
“Mrs. Hale.”
I stood.
“Do you recognize the defendant?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“My husband.”
The prosecutor paused.
“And what else is he?”
I looked at Preston.
He closed his eyes.
I answered:
“My father's son.”
The courtroom erupted.
The judge struck the gavel.
“Order!”
The prosecutor continued.
“Did you know that before your marriage?”
“No.”
“Did your mother know?”
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
A murmur spread through the courtroom.
The prosecutor smiled.
“So your mother concealed the defendant's identity from you.”
“Yes.”
“And did your father arrange the marriage?”
I hesitated.
“I don't know.”
The prosecutor turned.
“Your Honor, the state has evidence suggesting that Michael Hale deliberately arranged the marriage between Elena and Preston to consolidate control of the Moretti inheritance.”
My stomach turned.
The attorney representing my mother stood.
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
But the damage was done.
The prosecutor continued.
“Mrs. Hale, did your father leave you an inheritance?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“Billions?”
“Yes.”
“Did Preston have a claim?”
“Apparently.”
“Did he know?”
“I don't know.”
The prosecutor turned toward the jury.
“That uncertainty is precisely the problem.”
Then the defense called its first witness.
Daniel.
He walked into the courtroom.
Preston watched him.
The prosecutor approached.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Daniel nodded.
“Were you involved in the Hale family security operation?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Preston before his marriage to Elena?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know his identity?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know he was Michael Hale's son?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Elena?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Michael ordered me not to.”
The prosecutor smiled.
“So Michael Hale controlled you.”
“Yes.”
“Did Preston ever threaten Elena?”
“No.”
“Did he ever attempt to harm Sophie?”
“No.”
The prosecutor's smile disappeared.
“Then why was he arrested?”
Daniel looked toward Preston.
“Because someone framed him.”
The courtroom erupted.
The judge slammed the gavel.
“Order!”
The prosecutor stepped closer.
“Who?”
Daniel answered:
“Thomas Whitmore.”
The room went silent.
The prosecutor turned pale.
“Thomas Whitmore is dead.”
Daniel looked at him.
“No.”
A murmur spread.
“What did you say?”
“He isn't dead.”
The prosecutor stared.
“That's impossible.”
Daniel pointed toward the gallery.
“Look.”
Everyone turned.
A man stood at the back.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
Cold expression.
Thomas Whitmore.
Alive.
The courtroom exploded.
People screamed.
Security rushed toward him.
Thomas smiled.
Then he walked away.
By the time officers reached the doors...
he was gone.
The judge ordered an immediate recess.
Preston looked at me.
I stared back.
His expression said one thing.
Now you know.
We were taken to a secure room.
Investigators surrounded me.
“Mrs. Hale, we need to know everything.”
I looked at Daniel.
“Where is Thomas?”
“Gone.”
“Why would he appear here?”
“To prove Preston wasn't the mastermind.”
I frowned.
“Then who is?”
Daniel didn't answer.
My mother entered.
She was crying.
“It's me.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?”
She placed a folder on the table.
“I forged the first transfer agreement.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I changed the ownership documents.”
“Why?”
“To protect Elena.”
Daniel stared.
“You worked with Thomas.”
“Yes.”
Preston's attorney looked at her.
“Did you frame your own son-in-law?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
She pointed toward the folder.
“Catherine.”
The room went silent.
I stared.
“Catherine?”
My mother nodded.
“She has been manipulating all of us.”
“Why?”
“Because she wants the original agreement.”
“But why?”
“Because the agreement proves she is the legal heir.”
I frowned.
“She was the witness.”
“Yes.”
“She saved Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“Then why destroy my family?”
My mother whispered:
“Because she believes your grandmother stole her inheritance.”
I looked at Daniel.
“What does she want?”
“The empire.”
The trial resumed three hours later.
This time, Catherine was called to testify.
She entered slowly.
A cane in one hand.
Gray hair.
Calm eyes.
She looked at me.
Then at Preston.
Then at Daniel.
The prosecutor approached.
“Mrs. Moretti, did you witness the events surrounding Michael Hale's disappearance?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know where he was?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Preston Hale?”
“Yes.”
“Did he attempt to kill Elena?”
Catherine paused.
“No.”
The prosecutor frowned.
“Then why did you tell Elena to run from him?”
“I believed he was dangerous.”
“Did you have evidence?”
“No.”
“Then you lied.”
Catherine looked at me.
“Yes.”
The courtroom went silent.
The prosecutor continued.
“Why?”
“To force Elena to reveal the original agreement.”
I stared.
“You used me.”
“Yes.”
“You endangered Sophie.”
“I never intended for Sophie to be hurt.”
“You kidnapped her.”
“No.”
Catherine shook her head.
“I moved her because Thomas was coming.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you wouldn't have trusted me.”
“You were right.”
She lowered her head.
The prosecutor held up the key.
“Did you steal this from Elena?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To open the final vault.”
“What is inside?”
Catherine looked toward me.
“Proof that the Moretti family was robbed.”
“By whom?”
She whispered:
“Your grandfather.”
The prosecutor frowned.
“Anything else?”
Catherine looked at Preston.
“Yes.”
“Preston Hale is innocent.”
The courtroom erupted.
Preston closed his eyes.
Catherine continued.
“He was never part of the conspiracy.”
“Then who was?”
She looked at me.
“The person sitting beside you.”
I turned.
My mother.
Catherine pointed at her.
“Sarah Hale.”
My mother's face collapsed.
“No.”
Catherine continued.
“She created the first forged agreement.”
“Why?”
“To hide the fact that Michael wasn't the legal owner.”
The prosecutor stared.
“Then who was?”
Catherine looked at me.
“Elena.”
The courtroom became silent.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
The prosecutor turned toward me.
“Mrs. Hale, according to the original agreement, you are the sole surviving beneficiary.”
I stared.
“But why?”
“Because your grandmother transferred her rights to you before she died.”
I looked at my mother.
“You knew.”
My mother nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I wanted you to have a normal life.”
I laughed bitterly.
“A normal life?”
She cried.
“I tried.”
“You let me marry Preston.”
“I believed he would protect you.”
“You let Thomas hunt me.”
“I tried to stop him.”
“You lied about my father.”
“I thought I was saving you.”
I shook my head.
“You didn't save me.”
My voice broke.
“You hid me.”
The judge returned.
The prosecution withdrew the major charges against Preston.
The kidnapping charge collapsed.
The attempted murder charge collapsed.
The fraud case was transferred to federal court.
Preston was released.
He walked toward me.
I stepped back.
He stopped.
“I won't ask you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I won't ask you to come home.”
“Good.”
“I only want you and Sophie safe.”
I looked at him.
“Are you still my husband?”
He looked down.
“I don't know.”
I didn't know either.
Then the courthouse doors opened.
A man walked inside.
Thomas Whitmore.
This time, he didn't run.
He walked straight toward us.
Security surrounded him.
He looked at Preston.
“My son.”
Preston froze.
Then Thomas looked at me.
“Your father left you one final message.”
“What?”
Thomas smiled.
“He told me that if I ever stood in front of you, I should give you this.”
He held out a small envelope.
I took it.
My father's handwriting.
Again.
I opened it.
Elena,
If Thomas is standing before you, then the trial has already begun.
My hands shook.
Do not trust the verdict.
I frowned.
The next line was underlined.
The trial is not about Preston.
I looked at Preston.
Then Thomas.
Then my mother.
My father continued:
It is about the person who has been controlling every witness.
The final sentence made my blood run cold.
And that person is not Catherine.
I turned the page.
There was only one name.
SOPHIE.
I stopped breathing.
Then beneath it:
Your daughter is the final witness.
I looked at Sophie.
She was sitting beside Daniel.
Her eyes were fixed on me.
And she was holding something in her hand.
A small silver key.
The same key I had seen disappear in the forest.
I walked toward her.
“Sophie.”
She looked up.
“Mommy?”
“Where did you get that?”
She smiled innocently.
“The lady gave it to me.”
“What lady?”
“The lady who looks like Grandma.”
My blood ran cold.
Catherine stood behind us.
Her face had gone white.
Daniel turned toward the courthouse doors.
They slowly opened.
The woman from the forest stepped inside.
Everyone froze.
She looked directly at Sophie.
Then she said:
“It's time.”
And for the first time, I understood.
Sophie hadn't merely been kidnapped.
She had been chosen.
May you like
And whatever my father had hidden...
my eight-year-old daughter was the only person who could unlock it.
