Chapter 39 THE MASK SHATTERS

Chapter 39 THE MASK SHATTERS
VICTORIA POV

The courtroom doors close behind me with a dull, final thud.

And something inside me snaps. The control I’ve always managed to pull shatters to the ground. 

I don’t wait until we reach the corridor. I don’t care who’s watching or listening. I don’t care about the whispers, the stares, the reporters pretending not to stare.

“HOW DARE YOU?” I shriek, my voice ricocheting off marble walls as I whirl on my lawyer, my eyes blazing with anger. 

He flinches.

Good.

“That was supposed to be CONTROLLED,” I scream, jabbing a manicured finger into his chest. “That was supposed to be CLEAN. You told me this girl had NOTHING.”

“Victoria, please—” he starts.

“IT IS MRS BLACKTHORNE TO YOU AND DON’T YOU DARE ‘PLEASE’ ME!” I snap, my composure evaporating like it was never there. “Do you have any idea what just happened in there? Do you understand what you LET happen?”

People stop walking. Security stiffens. I can feel eyes burning into my back.

For years, I ruled rooms with a smile, a whisper, a look that made men nervous, that made men tremble in fear. 

Yet now I’m the one shaking.

My lawyer lowers his voice. “We anticipated resistance, but not this level of…”

“Resistance?” I laugh, sharp and hysterical. “She stood there and told the court I THREATENED her. She painted me like some villain out of a cheap drama.”

“You did approach her privately…”

“I approached a LIAR,” I snap. “A girl who crawled out of nowhere with a sob story and a hunger for money.”

I storm toward the elevator, heels striking the floor too hard, too fast. The doors open and I step in, mashing the button with unnecessary force.

The moment the doors slide shut, I lose it.

I slam my purse against the mirrored wall, my anger getting really hard to contain by the minute.

“She had him,” I hiss, my reflection staring back at me, my eyes wild and full of rage. “She had Ronan standing up for her. Do you know what that looks like? Do you know what that does to perception?”

My lawyer exhales slowly. “Ronan is emotional. He’s grieving.”

“He’s a TRAITOR,” I snarl. “I raised him. I built his life. I gave him power. I protected him. And he stands there, there…choosing her over me.”

The elevator dings.

I barely register it as we exit and head toward the private parking area.

“She should never have been allowed to speak,” I continue, my voice rising again. “You should have shut that down. Objection. Defamation. Anything!”

“I did object,” he says tightly. “The judge overruled.”

“Then you should have pushed harder!” I yelled, my hands still trembling from so much anger. 

We reach my car.

The moment the door shuts, all hell breaks loose.

I scream.

A raw, unfiltered sound tears from my throat as I grip my purse too tightly, my perfect nails digging into leather and crystals.

“She stood there like she belonged,” I whisper, shaking now. “Like she was one of us but she’s not and she would never be.”

My lawyer hesitates. “Vic… I’m sorry Mrs Blackthorne, we need to discuss damage control.”

I laugh bitterly. “Damage control? The damage is done.”

I see it again, Annabelle standing there. Her voice trembling but steady enough to hurt. The way the room listened. The way the judge looked at her.

The way Harrison’s name sat between us like a ghost.

“That will,” I mutter. “That damn will.”

My lawyer clears his throat. “If the original document is authenticated…”

“It won’t be,” I cut in sharply. “It can’t be.”

He looks at me carefully now. Too carefully.

“There are experts,” he says. “Independent ones.”

I turn slowly to face him, my expression icy despite the storm raging inside me.

“You said that signature discrepancy was insignificant.”

“At the time, it appeared…”

“APPEARED?” I snap. “You built this case on ‘appeared’?”

He stiffens. “I’m doing everything within my power.”

I lean closer. “That girl is a threat.”

He nods cautiously. “Which is why we need strategy, not…”

“She is not just after money,” I interrupt. “She wants legitimacy. A name. A place.”

My voice drops, trembling with fury.

“She wants a life in the Blackthorne legacy.”

Silence stretches between us.

I stare out the windshield, my reflection warped in the glass.

I remember the first time Harrison told me about her.

So casually.

So cruelly.

A mistake, he’d said. Handled.

I clung to that word like a lifeline until I didn’t anymore. 

Handled.

Buried.

Gone.

But she isn’t gone.

“She was never supposed to come back,” I whisper. I made sure of it. I did what I had to yet she’s here. 

My lawyer shifts uncomfortably. “Mrs Blackthorne…if the DNA test confirms..”

“It won’t,” I snap again, louder this time. “Do you hear me? It won’t.”

He hesitates. “DNA doesn’t lie.”

I turn on him, eyes blazing. “People do. Labs do. Paperwork does. Everything lies if you push hard enough.”

He swallows. “Tampering would be…”

“Illegal?” I laugh darkly. “So is forgery. So is blackmail. So is threatening someone into silence.”

He pales.

I smirk. “And yet here we are.”

I lean back in my seat, breathing hard.

That courtroom.

The murmurs.

The way my smile slipped though just for a second but they saw it and I’m sure those bastards will latch onto it just to destroy me. 

“They can’t win,” I mutter, more to myself than him. “They won’t.”

He studies me. “Public perception is shifting.”

“I don’t care about the public,” I snap. “I care about control.”

I close my eyes.

Annabelle’s voice echoes in my head.

If I ever spoke up, I would lose everything. The fucking rat!

I open my eyes slowly.

“No,” I whisper. “She will, I will make sure she does.”

My lawyer stiffens. “Mrs Blackthorne—”

“Fix this,” I say coldly. “I don’t care how.”

He hesitates. “There are limits.”

I laugh again, soft and dangerous. “Limits are for people without power.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, “What about Ronan?”

The name burns. His name makes my heart ache. The fool. 

I grip my purse again. “He’ll come around.”

“Are you sure?”

I think of his face in the courtroom. Calm. Resolved. Unyielding.

For the first time, doubt coils in my chest.

But I crush it.

“He always does,” I say firmly. “Blood is blood.”

My lawyer doesn’t look convinced.

“Prepare for the DNA test,” I continue. “Delay it. Question it. Undermine it.”

“And the girl?”

I smile thinly.

“She wants to be seen,” I say. “Then we’ll make sure the spotlight destroys her.”

A knock on the window startles me.

A reporter.

I straighten instantly, rage snapping back behind a polished mask, I thrive on control and I will control all around me no matter the circumstances.

I step out of the car, shoulders back, chin high.

The tears come easily now, perfectly timed.

“This is a painful family matter,” I say softly, voice trembling just enough. “I only hope the truth prevails.”

The reporter nods sympathetically.

Inside, my blood is boiling.

As I slide back into the car and the door shuts, my smile vanishes.

This war isn’t over.

It’s just begun.

And I will not lose to a girl who should have stayed buried.