Chapter 8 - The Cracking Facade
The defense's only hope was to put Eleanor on the stand to play the victim. It was a massive risk, but Vance was desperate.
Under his questioning, Eleanor wept softly without ruining her makeup. She claimed it was an accident. She said they were washing dishes, the water got too hot, and Chloe slipped. She claimed the audio recording was out of context—that she was talking about washing Chloe's mouth out with soap, not burning her.
Then, the prosecutor, a sharp woman named Ms. Davis, stepped up for cross-examination.
“Mrs. Sterling, you claim this was an accident. Yet you didn't call 911, did you?” “I… I was in shock.” “You were in shock for an hour? While the child was locked in a closet?” “She was throwing a tantrum!” Eleanor snapped, her sweet facade slipping slightly. “She needed a timeout to calm down!”
“A timeout for second-degree burns?” Ms. Davis stepped closer to the stand. “You told her that if she told her mother, you would have Clara thrown in jail. Is that the kind of boundary you teach in your home, Mrs. Sterling?”
“She is a spoiled, insolent brat!” Eleanor suddenly exploded, slamming her hand against the witness stand. The frail grandmother vanished, replaced by the venomous woman I knew. “Her mother raises her like a feral animal in that filthy little apartment! Someone had to teach her respect! Someone had to show her that my house has rules!”
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The echo of her screaming voice bounced off the mahogany walls of the courtroom. Ms. Davis simply nodded, turning to the stunned jury. “No further questions, Your Honor.”
Eleanor realized what she had just done. She covered her mouth, but the damage was irreversible. The monster was out of the cashmere.
