Chapter 9 - The Grand Exposure

Jessica writhed and screamed in Ethan's grip, kicking wildly against the floor. "Let me go! It's your word against mine! No court will believe you! No one heard a thing!"
Ethan did not answer with words.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and pressed a single button on a remote control.
Above the balcony archway, the grand velvet curtain pulled back, revealing a massive, two-way mirror that looked directly down into the estate's main ballroom.
Jessica went completely limp, her jaw hanging slack in pure, unadulterated horror.
Through the glass, she saw the entire ballroom—four hundred of the most influential people in the country, including the mayor, the state supreme court justices, the district attorney, and dozens of media correspondents.
And on the towering, eight-hundred-inch projector screens usually reserved for romantic pre-wedding photo montages, Jessica's face was broadcast in crystal-clear, high-definition 4K. Every word she had screamed—every sickening detail about loosening the door bolts, laughing at my shattered bones, and pushing Julian off the balcony in Lake Como—had been transmitted through the state-of-the-art sound system, booming across the ballroom in terrifying surround sound.
Down below, guests covered their mouths in sheer disgust. Women turned away in tears. Men looked on with rage. The string quartet had long since stopped playing.
Standing in the front row, holding arrest warrants and handcuffs, were six armed detectives from the State Major Crimes Division, flanked by an official representative from the Italian Ministry of Justice.
"You... you televised it?" Jessica choked out, her voice barely a whisper, her skin turning an ash-gray color. "You staged this entire gala... to broadcast me?"
"You wanted an audience for your triumphs, Jessica," I said, leaning down so that my eyes were level with hers. "You wanted everyone to hear you laugh while my body broke. Well, look down there. Everyone is listening. But nobody is laughing."
Ethan released his grip, stepping back with utter revulsion, wiping his palm with a linen handkerchief as if he had touched raw sewage.
The heavy doors at the rear of the gallery burst open. Detectives flooded the room, their weapons drawn, badges gleaming under the moonlight.
"Jessica Vance—formerly Jessica Hayes," the lead detective barked, slamming her face-down onto the parquet floor and pulling her arms behind her back. "You are under arrest for the first-degree premeditated murder of Julian Vance, the attempted murder of Clara Hayes, aggravated assault causing permanent bodily disfigurement, and grand larceny. You have the right to remain silent..."
As the steel cuffs clicked around her wrists, Jessica began to scream like a wounded animal, thrashing wildly against the officers.
"Clara! Help me! I'm your sister! Blood is thicker than water!" she wailed, tears carving black trenches through her mascara. "Ethan! Tell them it's a mistake! Please! It was an accident! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"
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Her desperate cries echoed down the long gallery corridor until the heavy oak doors closed behind her, cutting her off from the civilized world forever.
***