“On the grounds that the will leaves the estate to Thomas Miller’s wife,” Bernie said, loud enough for the back row to hear, “and there is no such person present in this courtroom.”
A murmur went through the gallery. Patricia turned around and glared at Audrey.
“This is ridiculous.”
Patricia’s lawyer sputtered.
“Here is the marriage certificate.”
“And here,” Bernie said, holding up a certified document they had rushed from the Nevada clerk’s office, “is a marriage certificate dated one year prior between Patricia Jones and a Mr. Julian Vain. And we have found no record of a divorce.”
Patricia’s face went white. She gripped the table.
“That’s a lie,” she shouted, losing her composure. “That’s a forgery. Julian is… he’s gone.”
“Is he?” Bernie smiled. “Your Honor, the defense calls Mr. Julian Vain.”
The double doors at the back of the courtroom swung open. Audrey didn’t turn around. She just watched Patricia. She watched as Patricia’s eyes locked onto the back of the room. Watched the pupils dilate in pure terror. Watched her mouth open in a silent scream. Julian walked down the center aisle, flanked by two armed security guards Audrey had hired. He looked clean-shaved and was wearing a new suit. He walked past Patricia. He stopped, looked her up and down, and winked.
“Hello, Patty,” Julian said into the stunned silence of the courtroom. “Long time no see. You still owe me for that honeymoon in Vegas.”
“Order!”
The judge banged his gavel as the courtroom erupted into chaos. Reporters were shouting. Chad was trying to sneak out the side door. Patricia slumped into a chair, burying her face in her hands. Audrey sat perfectly still. She looked at her father’s empty chair in her mind.
Checkmate, Dad, she thought. Checkmate.
The chaos in the courtroom was absolute. Patricia was screaming, her face contorted into a mask of pure hatred as bailiffs moved to restrain her. Julian Vain was laughing, blowing kisses to the gallery, clearly enjoying the chaos his resurrection had caused. But it was what happened next that sealed the fate of the Miller dynasty. Judge Halloway, having restored order with aggressive use of his gavel, looked down at the trembling defense lawyer.
“Counselor,” the judge said, his voice icy, “is this true? Is your client currently married to Mr. Vain?”
Patricia’s lawyer looked at her. Patricia stayed silent, her breathing ragged. That silence was a confession.
“In light of this evidence,” the judge declared, “the bequest in the last will and testament of Thomas Miller to my wife Patricia is hereby suspended pending a fraud investigation. Furthermore, since the marriage was likely void ab initio, Patricia Miller has no claim to the spousal share of the estate.”
He turned his gaze to Audrey.
“Under the laws of intestacy, and barring the invalid bequests, the remainder of the estate—the mansion, the remaining stocks, the holdings, and the company shares—reverts to the sole surviving next of kin.”
The room went dead silent.
“Miss Audrey Miller,” the judge said, “you are the sole beneficiary of the entire Miller estate.”
Patricia let out a shriek that sounded like an animal dying.
“No! It’s mine! I earned it! I put up with that old fool for five years!”
“Deputies,” the judge ordered, “arrest Mrs. Vain for perjury and fraud, and get the district attorney on the phone regarding the bigamy charges.”
As they dragged Patricia out in handcuffs, her Chanel suit rumpled, her dignity gone, she locked eyes with Audrey. She expected to see Audrey gloating. She expected a smirk. But Audrey just looked at her with a calm, pitying stare. It was the look of someone watching a storm pass. Chad had already bolted. He made it as far as the parking lot before the F.B.I. agents, who had been tipped off by the files Audrey sent them regarding the dealership money laundering, tackled him onto the hood of his yellow Porsche.
The return to Lakeview. Two hours later, Audrey pulled up to the massive iron gates of the Lakeview mansion, the house she had grown up in, the house Patricia had banned her from. She wasn’t driving her old Honda. She was in the back of a town car, with Bernie and Silas sitting opposite her.
“You own it all, kid,” Bernie said, shaking his head in disbelief. “The bank accounts, the properties, the cars. Even with the debts Patricia racked up, the assets outweigh them ten to one. You’re a billionaire.”
Audrey looked out the window.
“I don’t want it.”
“What?” Silas asked.
“I don’t want to live here,” Audrey said as the car rolled up the long driveway. “This place is cold. It’s full of ghosts and fake people.”
