Her phone. Sat beside her. Screen cracked.
Still buzzing with messages she no longer read. Whore. You ruined a family.
You deserve to die. She almost believed them. Her modeling contracts had vanished overnight.
Brands she once flaunted in interviews had cut ties. Citing values in statements that trended worldwide. Friends didn’t text.
And no one called. Except. Victor.
But she never answered. Not since Evelyn’s words. When he calls you.
And he will. Don’t answer. Now.
Her phone’s silence was louder than its rings. Nadia stood barefoot on the cold tile floor. Staring at the balcony door.
She opened. It slowly. The wind hit her like accusation.
Below. The city churned. Cars.
Strangers. Life moving without her. Twenty-five stories above it all.
Nadia stepped forward. Barefoot. Her sheer dress clinging to her skin.
Her eyes were swollen from crying. The railing felt cold beneath her trembling hands point one step. That’s all it would take.
Victor wouldn’t. Care. Evelyn would understand.
Maybe this was the only ending left. Her fingers tightened on the rail. Tears streamed silently.
Then. Three knocks. Nadia froze at a door knock.
She turned. Confused. Disoriented.
Her heart pounded louder than reason. She whispered. Victor.
No answer. She took slow, hesitant steps back inside. Reached the door.
Looked through the peephole. A woman stood there. Not Evelyn.
Someone else. Nadia hesitated. Then opened the door.
The woman said nothing. She simply handed Nadia an envelope and left at Nadia’s shaking fingers tore it open. Inside.
A folded note. Short. Precise.
Room 1120. Go now. Nadia’s breath caught.
The handwriting wasn’t Victor’s it was Evelyn’s. She stood paralyzed for a moment, mind racing between fear and disbelief. Then instinct took over.
She grabbed her phone. Her wallet. Nothing else.
She left the suite. Without looking back, her bare feet padded down the hall, carrying her away from the balcony. Away from the ledge.
Away from herself. Room 1120. She knocked.
No answer. A soft click. The door opened.
A silent man stood inside. Tall. Expressionless.
Dressed in black. Nadia’s voice cracked. Evelyn.
The man stepped aside, silently inviting her in. Nadia hesitated. Then she crossed the threshold.
The door closed behind her. And for the first time in days, she let herself collapse. Not into death.
But into rescue. The courtroom was colder than Evelyn. Expected.
She sat beside Rachel Lynn. Hands steady. Expression unreadable.
The press filled every available seat beyond the glass barrier. Cameras weren’t allowed inside. But the world was still watching.
Victor sat across from her. He looked smaller now. Not physically.
Power had left him. Evelyn didn’t glance at him. She didn’t need to.
Ms. Monroe. Would you like to speak? The judge asked. Evelyn rose.
Her tailored black dress flawless. Her posture unshaken. When she spoke, her voice carried.
I am not here for money. Silence. She let the words settle.
I’m here for my children. Victor shifted. Evelyn continued.
Um. Seeking sole custody of my four sons. And full control of the Monroe family trust allocated to them.
A murmur rippled through the gallery. Rachel remained still beside her. Silent strength.
Evelyn’s voice tightened. Steel wrapped in silk. For years, Mr. Monroe ensured I remained.
Legally and financially dependent. He controlled every dollar. Every decision.
When I was pregnant, he isolated me. Denied me access to medical choices. And refused to appear at their birth.
She paused. Let the silence cut. He has never held.
Them. Gasps. Even the judge’s eyes flickered.
Evelyn pressed on. I have documented evidence of his financial strangulation. Copies of bank records.
Surveillance footage showing his absence during medical emergencies. And signed statements from staff confirming his refusal to acknowledge his children’s existence. Victor said nothing.
Evelyn turned fully toward the. Judge. I’m not asking for justice.
A pause. I’m taking it. She sat down.
The judge’s expression tightened. Rachel whispered softly beside her. You won.
But Evelyn didn’t smile. Across the room, Victor’s lawyer stood. Attempting.
Damage control. Legal jargon. Corporate interests.
Terms like miscommunication. Complex family structures. Privacy breach.
Victor never spoke. Did he sat frozen. Silent but powerless.
Be why the afternoon. The ruling was swift. Full custody awarded to Evelyn.
Monroe. Control of the trust. Hundreds of millions.
Transferred to her authority. Victor retained visitation rights. Evelyn’s eyes remained blank as she heard that.
She knew he wouldn’t use them. When the judge’s gavel finally fell, Rachel. Touched her.
Rachel touched her arm gently. It’s done. Evelyn stood.
Victor remained seated. For the first time, Evelyn allowed herself to look at him. Not with hatred.
Not with fear. With nothing. And that emptiness broke him more than rage ever could.
The courtroom doors opened. Reporters surged outside, awaiting statements. Rachel asked softly.
Do you want to say anything to the press? Evelyn answered without hesitation. No. She stepped into the sunlight.
Cameras flashed. People screamed questions. But she didn’t speak.
She simply walked. And the world watched. Not Victor.