Chapter 7 - Playing the Cards
The next morning, the media war began just as Thorne had threatened.
Sensational headlines splashed across front pages and entertainment websites: “TEARS AND TURMOIL: Vance Heiress Facing Mental Breakdown?” “Billion-Dollar Baby: Battle for the Vance Empire Turns Ugly.”
Reporters lined the perimeter of the Greenwich estate. Leaked "anonymous sources"—obviously planted by Vanessa and Thorne—claimed I was unfit, unstable, and abusing prescription medication following the delivery.
At 2:00 PM, a sleek black SUV pulled up to the estate gates. Two officials from the Connecticut Department of Children and Families (DCF), accompanied by two local police officers, requested entry.
Harlan watched the security monitors nervously. “Eleanor, they’re here. Thorne actually did it.”
“Let them in,” I said smoothly, cradling Victoria in my arms.
Five minutes later, the social worker, a stern-looking woman named Mrs. Vance (no relation), walked into the living room alongside a police sergeant.
“Mrs. Vance,” the social worker said formally. “We received an urgent, sworn report alleging that the newborn child is in an unsafe environment due to severe post-partum psychiatric instability and lack of proper medical oversight.”
I didn't panic. I didn't raise my voice.
Instead, I gestured for them to sit.
“Welcome to my home, Mrs. Gable,” I said warmly. “I expected you.”
The social worker blinked, taken aback by my calm demeanor. “You expected us?”
“Of course,” I said. “When a billionaire like Julian Thorne tries to weaponize state agencies to force a corporate buyout, he usually starts with social services.”
I signaled to Harlan, who handed Mrs. Gable a thick, professionally bound folder.
“In that folder,” I explained calmly, “you will find a complete, certified transcript of my psychological evaluation performed yesterday by the Chief of Psychiatry at NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital. You will also find full medical records for Victoria, signed off by her pediatrician who visited two hours ago.”
Mrs. Gable opened the folder, her eyes skimming the certified medical seals.
“Furthermore,” I continued, pointing to the discreet camera mounted near the ceiling, “this room is audio-and-video recorded. And sitting in the next room is Dr. Aris Thorne—Julian Thorne’s estranged sister and a world-renowned child advocate—who has agreed to act as Victoria’s independent legal guardian ad litem if necessary.”
The social worker looked at the documents, then at the police officer, and finally back at me. Her stern demeanor completely softened.
“Mrs. Vance... these allegations made in the report... they claimed you were non-responsive and refusing medical care for the child.”
“The report was filed by Vanessa Blake, correct?” I asked gently.
Mrs. Gable hesitated, then gave a faint nod. “We cannot legally disclose the reporter, but... the details match.”
“Miss Blake is currently under federal investigation for wire fraud and corporate embezzlement,” Harlan added, handing over a copy of the Southern District indictment notice. “She filed that report to aid her accomplice, Caleb Vance, in extortion.”
Mrs. Gable closed the file with a decisive snap. She stood up and looked at me with deep respect.
“I apologize for the intrusion, Mrs. Vance,” she said warmly. “It is clear your daughter is well-cared for, safe, and loved. This case is closed as unfounded. We will be referring the reporter to the District Attorney’s office for filing a false emergency report.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gable,” I said gently.
As the officers and social worker walked out, I looked down at Victoria, who was fast asleep against my chest.
May you like
Phase one of Thorne’s attack was broken.
Now, it was my turn to strike back.
