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Chapter 16 - The Witness Stand

The court session opened under a heavy sky. Department 14 was packed to capacity, filled with journalists, federal observers, and members of the public who had followed the rise and collapse of Hector Santos.

I took the witness stand in a crisp, dark grey suit, adjusting the microphone in front of me. Across the carpeted well of the courtroom, my father sat with his hands resting flat on the mahogany defense table. He looked sharp in his tailored suit, but the illusion of his untouchable authority had frayed at the edges.

"Miss Santos," ADA Sarah Lin began, stepping forward with measured confidence. "Can you tell the jury what transpired on the afternoon of October 12th?"

For three hours, I laid out the sequence of events without faltering.

I described finding the financial discrepancies, tracking the unregistered shell accounts, recording the motel meeting, and going to the Crestview Drive garage to confront him privately. I recounted the heavy thud of the garage door sliding shut, the metallic glint of the tire iron, and the cold, calculated precision of every blow.

When Marcus Vance stepped up for the defense's cross-examination, he tried to dismantle my credibility with rapid-fire questions about my medical history, the head trauma, and the gaps in my immediate memory.

"Miss Santos," Vance barked, leaning over the podium. "You spent fourteen days in a medically induced coma. Is it not true that trauma of that severity can induce false memories—memories influenced by police questioning and media coverage?"

"Trauma can blur details, Mr. Vance," I answered calmly, looking directly into the eyes of the jurors. "It does not create four million dollars in offshore shell accounts. It does not generate timestamped cloud uploads. And it does not place a crowbar in my father's hand when he forced his way into my hospital room while I was still connected to a cardiac monitor."

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Vance opened his mouth to object, but caught himself, realizing the jury was watching my steady, unyielding composure. He slowly closed his binder and returned to his seat.

"No further questions, Your Honor," Vance said quietly.

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