Chapter 4 - THE POISONED TONGUE
By nine o'clock the following morning, the bail hearing for Celeste and Brianna was already underway at the Chatham County Courthouse. Thanks to high-priced defense attorneys paid on emergency retainers from my father’s dwindling personal lines of credit, both women walked out the courthouse side doors by noon, shielded behind large designer sunglasses.
They hadn't even washed the holding cell grime off their skin before they went on the offensive.
I was sitting by Leo’s hospital bed, peeling an orange for him, when Daniel rushed into the room, holding his iPad.
"Turn on Channel 6," Daniel said grimly. "Or better yet, look at local social media."
I tapped the screen of the tablet. A live press conference was streaming outside the courthouse steps. Celeste was draped in an understated black linen dress, dabbing at dry eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief, leaning heavily on Brianna’s arm.
"My stepdaughter, Amelia, has orchestrated a calculated, venomous attack on our family," Celeste sobbed to the microphones thrust in her face. "She has struggled with severe psychological instability for years. Yesterday, during my daughter Brianna’s wedding celebration, Amelia became hysterically jealous. She manufactured an absurd story about her son being mistreated, brought armed thugs to our ancestral home, and unlawfully forced my elderly husband into the street without his heart medicine!"
A reporter shouted from the crowd: "Mrs. Gaston, what about the reports that your daughter forced a four-year-old to kneel on burning gravel?"
Brianna stepped forward, her voice dripping with practiced Southern innocence. "That is an utter, malicious falsehood! The child tripped while running unsupervised near the driveway. I rushed to help him up, and Amelia attacked me! She is weaponizing her own child to extort money from our family and derail my engagement to Julian Bradford. We are filing an emergency petition for temporary custody of Leo to protect him from his mother's unstable care!"
I froze. The orange slice dropped from my fingers onto the plastic bedside tray.
"Did you hear that, Daniel?" I whispered, my voice dropping to an icy chill. "She wants custody of my son."
Leo looked up at me from his pillows, his large hazel eyes wide with sudden terror. His little hands gripped the hospital blanket, pulling it up to his chin. "Mommy? Is Aunt Brianna coming here? Am I going to get in trouble again?"
"No, sweetheart," I said, leaning down and kissing his forehead, stroking his soft brown hair. "Aunt Brianna is never going to lay a finger on you again. Mommy is going to make sure of it."
I stood up and walked Daniel out into the hospital corridor.
"How fast can we release the surveillance footage?" I asked, my tone deadly calm.
"We have the full 4K exterior security footage from the gatehouse cameras," Daniel replied, a cold smile touching his lips. "It captures everything. Brianna grabbing Leo by the collar of his shirt. Celeste pointing at the gravel. The timestamp shows Leo kneeling there for two hours and forty-seven minutes while the temperature on the thermometer read ninety-six degrees in the shade. It also catches the audio from the courtyard microphone—including Brianna laughing about teaching the little bastard his place."
"Don't give it to the local police first," I said. "Celeste’s cousin is a deputy commissioner; she’ll bury the file in administrative review. Leak the unedited footage directly to every major news outlet in Atlanta, New York, and every Savannah gossip blog simultaneously. Tag Arthur Bradford's corporate board of directors."
"And the custody threat?" Daniel asked.
May you like
"Call Judge Harrison," I replied. "Tell him I am filing an expedited emergency restraining order against Raymond, Celeste, and Brianna Gaston. And include Dr. Vance’s certified medical report detailing second-degree friction burns and heat exhaustion. If any of them comes within five hundred yards of Leo or Gaston Manor, I want them in orange jumpsuits by sundown."
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