Chapter 11 - The Bail Hearing
2:00 p.m.
The courtroom at the Daniel Patrick Moynihan United States Courthouse on Pearl Street was standing-room only.
Julian stood at the defense table, wearing a oversized gray jumpsuit provided by the holding facility, his wrists bound in heavy steel handcuffs attached to a chain around his waist. His hair was greasy, unwashed, sticking to his forehead in clumped strands.
Sitting three rows behind the prosecution table, wearing a tailored charcoal wool suit with her hair pulled back into a tight, elegant chignon, was me.
I held myself completely upright, resting my weight against the back of the wooden bench to spare my bandaged back. My face showed no bruises—the makeup artist my father had brought from New York had done a flawless job. I looked serene, wealthy, and utterly unbothered.
Julian turned his head, his eyes locking onto mine across the wooden railing.
His lips moved, forming a desperate, silent word: Kat.
I didn't blink. I didn't smile. I looked at him the way one looks at a dirty smudge on a windowpane before the window washer wipes it clean.
"All rise," the bailiff called out.
Judge Eleanor Vance—no relation to my father, but a woman who had served on the federal bench for twenty-two years—took her seat behind the high mahogany bench.
"Mr. Vance," the judge began, looking down over her reading glasses at Julian. "The government has presented a forty-eight-count indictment alleging wire fraud, money laundering, and grand larceny totaling two hundred and forty million dollars."
Julian’s public defender stood up. "Your Honor, my client is a lifelong resident of New York with no prior criminal record. We ask for a reasonable bail—"
"The defendant’s assets have been completely frozen," the prosecutor interrupted, standing up. "Furthermore, the government considers Mr. Vance an extreme flight risk due to his previous attempts to access private aviation at Teterboro Airport late last night."
Judge Vance didn't hesitate for a single second.
"Bail is denied," she said, striking her wooden gavel down with a sharp CRACK. "Defendant will remain in federal custody until trial."
Julian let out a strangled, choked scream as two heavy marshals grabbed his arms and dragged him backward through the iron door leading to the holding cells.
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"Kat!" he screamed, his voice echoing off the high plaster ceiling. "Kat, tell them! Tell them it was a mistake! KAT!"
I stood up slowly, adjusted my jacket, and walked out of the courtroom beside Marcus, my heels clicking in a slow, steady rhythm against the marble floor.
