Chapter 15 - Preston’s Version of the Truth
Preston refused every plea deal.
His attorneys tried everything else.
They said the video lacked context.
They said Sophie may have stolen the phone before Preston recovered it.
They said he believed he was protecting wedding guests from theft.
They described the strike with the oak board as a spontaneous reaction during “extreme emotional stress.”
Then prosecutors played Celeste’s interview.
Preston had discussed hurting Sophie before the wedding.
His defense changed overnight.
Now he claimed Celeste manipulated him.
Celeste claimed Margaret manipulated her.
Margaret blamed Nathan.
Nathan blamed Preston.
Charles blamed Margaret.
James blamed everyone.
The family that once demanded absolute loyalty suddenly became six people pointing at each other.
I attended Preston’s pretrial hearing alone.
He watched me from the defense table.
During a recess, he was escorted past me.
“Evelyn.”
I ignored him.
He stopped.
A deputy pulled his arm.
“Keep moving.”
Preston leaned toward me.
“You think you won?”
I finally looked at him.
“This isn’t a game.”
“It always was to Grandpa.”
“No.”
“It was to you.”
His face twisted.
“You stole everything.”
“I didn’t steal anything.”
“You stole him.”
“Grandpa?”
“He was supposed to teach me the company.”
“He tried.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know he fired you twice and Dad rehired you.”
Preston laughed bitterly.
“He hated me.”
“No.”
“He expected something from you.”
“What?”
“Accountability.”
His eyes hardened.
“You always thought you were better.”
“I spent half my life believing I was worse.”
That silenced him.
I continued.
“You know what the difference between us was?”
He stared at me.
“When I made mistakes, everyone made sure I remembered them.”
“When you made mistakes, everyone made sure you forgot.”
For the first time, Preston had nothing to say.
The deputy began moving him again.
Then he turned his head.
“She deserved something.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Sophie.”
The deputy stopped.
Preston’s expression became ugly.
“She looked at me like I was nothing.”
My stomach turned.
“She is eight.”
“She had what belonged to me.”
“The shares?”
“Everything.”
He was breathing harder.
“Grandpa’s attention.”
“The company.”
“The money.”
“The house.”
Then he said the sentence prosecutors later replayed in court.
“She was born into my place.”
I stared at my brother.
There was no confusion left.
No hidden trauma.
No misunderstood golden child.
Preston genuinely believed another human being’s existence was theft if it reduced what he believed he deserved.
I stepped closer.
“Sophie didn’t take your place.”
He sneered.
“You lost it.”
The deputy pulled him away.
I watched until the door closed.
Outside the courthouse, reporters waited.
For weeks, I had refused every interview.
That day, I stopped.
A reporter shouted.
“Mrs. Bennett, do you believe your brother should receive the maximum sentence?”
Cameras turned toward me.
I thought about blood on the wedding menu.
I thought about Sophie asking whether Grandma would be angry.
Then I answered.
“I believe children should never be sacrificed to protect adults from consequences.”
The courthouse steps became silent.
“That is all I have to say.”
But it wasn’t the end.
Because that evening, my lawyer called.
May you like
Nathan had formally filed for visitation with Sophie.
Even from jail, he still believed fatherhood was something he could demand.
