Chapter 4 - The Public Deposition
By Wednesday of the following week, the legal machinery Allaric Vance had set in motion was moving with terrifying momentum.
The Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office, after reviewing the unedited 4K footage and the production deck, officially upgraded the charges against Saraphina to Felony Assault in the Third Degree and Reckless Endangerment.
Simultaneously, Allaric filed a five-million-dollar civil suit against Saraphina Media LLC, Genevieve, and the production company for commercial fraud and intentional infliction of emotional distress.
The news broke on Variety and The Hollywood Reporter by noon:
LIFESTYLE INFLUENCER SARAPHINA MEDIA FACES FELONY CHARGES AFTER UNEDITED WEDDING ATTACK FOOTAGE EXPOSED.
The article included still frames from the raw feed showing Genevieve’s thumbs-up signal, the protruding steel pins, and the script page designating me as the "volatile antagonist" for the reality pilot.
The public backlash was instantaneous and catastrophic.
Within twenty-four hours, Saraphina’s subscriber base dropped by over 1.2 million. Every single commercial sponsor—from national beauty brands to luxury meal-kit companies—issued public statements severing ties with her agency. The streaming network officially terminated the pilot deal, filing a cross-claim against Saraphina for breach of contract due to the fraudulent submission of altered material.
On Thursday morning, my supervisor at Keystone Medical Supply called me personally.
“Mave,” her voice was thick with genuine embarrassment and apology. “I am so deeply sorry. We reviewed the investigative reports released by the prosecutor’s office this morning. Your administrative suspension is officially lifted with full back pay, and corporate management has issued a formal apology for how this was handled.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” I said, looking out my kitchen window. “I appreciate the call.”
“Your job is secure, Mave,” she added. “In fact, the compliance board wants to appoint you lead auditor for our upcoming regional audit.”
I hung up the phone and took a long, deep breath. The professional reputation I had spent ten years building was restored.
At 2:00 PM, Allaric Vance’s conference room was packed for a court-mandated settlement deposition.
On one side of the mahogany table sat my father, Thaddius, wearing a dark suit, looking broken and exhausted. Beside him sat Saraphina, stripped of her glamorous ring-light makeup, wearing a simple black sweater, her eyes swollen and red from days of crying.
Genevieve sat at the end of the table, flanked by three high-priced criminal defense attorneys.
On my side sat Allaric, Declan, and me. My stitches had been removed two days prior, leaving a thin, pink, three-inch scar running along my cheekbone—a permanent mark of the night my family tried to convert my life into content.
Genevieve’s lead attorney cleared his throat, sliding a thick folder across the table.
“Mr. Vance,” the lawyer said, his tone drained of all posturing. “My clients are prepared to offer an immediate, full settlement. A complete public retraction across all remaining channels, a formal admission of liability, and a financial payment of two million dollars to your client.”
Saraphina let out a muffled sob, burying her face in her hands.
Allaric didn't touch the folder. He looked at me.
I looked across the table at Saraphina, then at Genevieve—the woman who had insisted on the cream dress, who had moved my chair under the camera, who had given the thumbs-up while my blood spilled onto a napkin.
“The financial terms are acceptable,” I said, my voice smooth, calm, and utterly devoid of rage. “But the public retraction will not be written by your publicist.”
Genevieve lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with a faint remnant of her old arrogance. “What do you mean?”
“It will be a three-minute unedited video,” I stated, looking Genevieve dead in the eye. “Read directly from a script drafted by my legal team. It will detail the exact sequence of events, including the seat change, the production deck, and the thumbs-up signal.”
“No!” Genevieve gasped, her face going pale. “That will ruin my reputation in this city!”
“Your reputation was built on my silence, Mother,” I replied coldly. “And my silence is no longer for sale.”
My father, Thaddius, who had remained silent for the entire two-hour proceeding, slowly looked up at his wife.
“Sign the papers, Genevieve,” Thaddius said, his voice flat and heavy as granite.
May you like
Genevieve turned to him, shocked. “Thaddius?!”
“Sign them,” my father repeated, his hands trembling as he looked at the pink scar on my face. “We are done lying. We are done protecting this.”
