Chapter 5 - The Collapse of the Dynasty
The hallway outside Courtroom 402 was a war zone of high-society panic. Eleanor Salvatore had cornered David against the marble water fountain, her fingers clawing at the fabric of his suit jacket, her face twisted into an expression of raw, unadulterated betrayal.
"What did she say in there, David?" Eleanor shrieked, her voice echoing off the high plaster ceilings of the courthouse. "What did that bitch say about your diagnosis? Tell me she’s lying! Tell me you didn't let her say those things on the record!"
"It’s true, Mom," David said, his voice entirely devoid of life, his hands hanging limp at his sides. He looked like a man who had already been executed and was simply waiting for his body to realize it. "The baby isn't mine. Danielle lied to us. She’s been sleeping with some mechanic from the South Side the whole time."
"No..." Eleanor stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth, her pearls rattling against her chest. "No, that’s impossible! She had the ultrasound! She had the Salvatore chin! I already bought the silver rattle from Tiffany’s, David! I already told the board at the country club that the line was secure!"
"The only thing secure is his indictment, Eleanor," I said, stepping out of the courtroom doors with Marcus beside me. I pulled my sunglasses from my bag and slid them onto my face, looking down at the two of them with a calm, unbothered serenity. "Your son just admitted to criminal fraud on a court record. The State’s Attorney’s office is already picking up the files for review."
Eleanor turned her gaze to me, the hatred in her eyes so intense it could have burned through the stone walls. "You... you knew this the whole time? You let me sit through eight years of dinners, let me call you those names, let me buy those books... and you kept this in your pocket?"
"I didn't keep it in my pocket to hurt you, Eleanor," I said, stepping closer until I could smell the expensive French perfume she used to hide the rot inside her. "I kept it to protect his pride. Because I loved him. Because I thought that’s what a wife does when her husband is broken. But when he used my love as the weapon to try and steal my parents' money and erase my name... he reminded me that I’m a doctor. And a doctor knows exactly when a limb has gone gangrenous and needs to be amputated."
"Camila, please," David stepped forward, his eyes red and leaking tears, his hand reaching out toward my sleeve. "We can fix this. I’ll sign everything over to you. The house, the accounts, everything. Just don't go to the bar association. If I lose my license, I have nothing. I’m nothing without the law."
"You were nothing with it, David," I said, stepping back so his fingers only caught the empty air. "Marcus, let’s go. We have a ground-breaking ceremony to plan at St. Claire."
As we walked toward the elevators, I could hear Eleanor’s voice behind us, turning on her own son with the same vicious, unnatural cruelty she had used against me for nearly a decade. "You useless, pathetic boy! You let a South Side whore turn us into the laughingstock of the entire city! Don't you dare come back to my house, David! Don't you dare call yourself a Salvatore!"
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"They’re destroying each other, Camila," Marcus said with a wide, professional grin as the elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the sound of their screams. "It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in a domestic relations case."
"It’s just biology, Marcus," I said, looking at my reflection in the clean steel doors. "When an organism is built entirely on lies, it eventually consumes itself from the inside out."
