Part II: The Ghost Files and the $99.9\%$ Truth

The Quiet Preparation

The energy inside Terra’s modest, yet impeccably clean, house was a charged mixture of urgency and profound relief. The $99.9\%$ DNA confirmation—the simple, indisputable evidence of Florence’s motherhood—had been the lightning strike that galvanized their defense. Florence, having shed her layers of ragged cloth and years of accumulated street grime, now sat on a plush sofa, wearing a simple, soft cotton dress provided by Terra. The transformation was startling. She was still fragile, haunted by the residual tics and vacant stares of her years on the street, but the core of the woman—Florence, the mother—was emerging from the ‘mad woman’ shell.

Eunice, clutching the DNA report like a priceless security blanket, watched her mother with tear-filled eyes. “She looks like a princess, Terra. Like the mother I always imagined.”

“She is a princess, Eunice,” Terra corrected, a formidable woman with sharp, kind eyes and a deep, resonant voice. She was already on the phone, her conversation clipped and professional. “Yes, Mr. Kwon. The DNA is confirmed. We are filing immediately. I want the injunction filed by the end of the day. Attempted murder, criminal conspiracy, parental alienation, and illegal confinement. We hit them with everything.”

Terra’s involvement was a godsend. She was not just a kind stranger; she was a retired family court advocate with a formidable network of legal contacts and an unerring sense of justice. She had recognized the signs in Florence immediately: a trauma so deep it had shattered her mind, masked by the cruelty of those who wanted her silenced.

“Eunice,” Terra said, hanging up the phone, her voice dropping to a low, serious tone. “Your father is influential. His money buys time and silence. We have the truth, but they have the power. You must maintain radio silence. Your father’s main goal right now is to find you so he can control the narrative—and Florence.”

Eunice nodded, placing her phone in a secure locker Terra provided. The fear was real, but it was now tempered by a fierce, protective love for the woman who had fought through madness to find her.

“I’m ready to fight, Terra,” Eunice declared. “But what about Mom? How can she stand up in court?”

Florence, who had been silently tracing the pattern on the sofa with a steady finger, looked up. Her eyes, though still carrying the shadow of the past, were clear. “I remember the garden, my baby. I remember the white dress.” It was a fragmented, yet lucid, memory—a piece of the past surfacing, indicating the healing had begun.

Terra smiled warmly. “The DNA is her medicine, Eunice. We will hire a specialist who will testify that Florence’s condition is a direct result of ‘Prolonged Grief Disorder with Dissociative Features,’ stemming from the trauma of being told her child was dead. Seeing you has reversed the trauma. The court will see her as a victim, not a vagrant.”

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The Father’s Panic and the Stepmother’s Fear

Meanwhile, the investigation at the police station had begun. Eunice’s father, Mr. Robert Vance (no relation to Eli Vance from the previous story), and his wife, Clara, sat in the Chief’s office. Robert, a man whose wealth had always shielded him from consequences, was growing increasingly agitated.

“This is ridiculous!” Robert roared, slamming his hand on the Chief’s desk. “I told you, she has run off with that deranged homeless woman! She’s a menace! I want an APB issued on Florence and an immediate warrant for kidnapping!”

The Police Chief, a weary, by-the-book man, sighed. “Mr. Vance, we have an active missing person report on Eunice. We cannot issue a kidnapping warrant without evidence. We are tracking phone pings and local surveillance. If your daughter is with Florence, she has gone willingly.”

Clara, Robert’s current wife, shifted nervously in her seat. The conversation they had in the car—Robert’s chilling, off-hand admission—was echoing in her mind.

“…do you know how many years we all kiIIed her? We wipéd her out completely from the Land of the Living over 9 years ago.”

Clara wasn’t a good person, but she was deeply self-preserving. She hadn’t been privy to the initial plot nine years ago, only the convenient result—that Florence, the inconvenient first wife, was gone and forgotten. But Robert’s phrasing, the stark, casual use of the word “killed,” sent shivers down her spine.

Later that afternoon, back at their sterile, luxurious mansion, Clara confronted Robert.

“Robert, we need to talk about Florence. What exactly did you mean in the car? The police will dig. If she’s alive and she’s found, and she’s the girl’s mother, they will ask questions about the last nine years. What was the plan?”

Robert poured himself a large glass of expensive scotch, his hand shaking. “It was… a business arrangement. Florence had mental instability after Eunice was born. She was unfit. We paid a lot of money to have her declared legally deceased, and quietly placed her in a private facility far away. We told everyone, including little Eunice, that Florence died shortly after childbirth.”

“A facility?” Clara gasped. “You didn’t ‘kill’ her?”

“Of course not literally, you fool!” Robert snapped, though his eyes betrayed his panic. “We killed her legal identity! We killed her existence! But the facility closed down years ago, and she must have… escaped. And then she wandered back here, mad! We thought she was gone forever. It was clean! It was necessary!”

Clara, however, was already thinking about her own protection. “And what if she recovers? What if she remembers who ‘placed’ her there and told everyone she was dead? That’s not just parental alienation, Robert. That’s criminal conspiracy.”

The Injunction and the Leak

The next day, Robert received two items simultaneously: a certified letter and a call from his top-tier corporate lawyer.

The letter was a summons. Florence Vance, represented by the firm of Kwon & Associates (Terra’s contact), was suing him and Clara for attempted murder (in relation to the original ‘disappearance’), illegal confinement, harassment, and full custody of Eunice Vance. Attached was the most chilling piece of evidence: the DNA report confirming Florence’s maternity with $99.9\%$ certainty.

Robert’s lawyer, Mr. Silas, was apoplectic. “Robert, what in God’s name is this DNA report? You told me the first wife was deceased! This changes everything! The police are already questioning the validity of the original death certificate. And this ‘attempted murder’ charge… what is their angle?”

“It’s fabricated! It’s the ramblings of a lunatic!” Robert screamed into the phone. “That woman is not well! She was institutionalized!”

“That’s exactly their angle, Robert,” Silas replied grimly. “They’re arguing that her mental breakdown and subsequent life as a ‘mad woman’ on the streets were a direct result of the trauma caused by your conspiracy to erase her and steal her child. They will paint her as the victim of a heinous, ongoing crime. And the DNA is irrefutable.”

As Robert scrambled to control the legal fallout, Terra launched the second phase of her plan: a strategic leak. A carefully vetted journalist, chosen for her focus on social injustice, received an anonymous tip—complete with the DNA report and selected medical records detailing Florence’s former ‘legal death’ and subsequent institutionalization.

The headline the next morning was devastating:

EXCLUSIVE: INFLUENTIAL TYCOON EXPOSED: DID HE STAGE FIRST WIFE’S DEATH AND CONDEMN HER TO THE STREETS TO STEAL THEIR CHILD? DNA Confirms ‘Mad Woman’ Is Mother of Missing Heiress.

The First Court Appearance

The preliminary hearing was set two weeks later. The air outside the courthouse was electric, saturated with media vans and protestors holding signs that read “Justice for Florence” and “The Soil Remembers the Seed” (a phrase Eunice loved from an old story).

Inside, Florence sat beside Mr. Kwon, impeccably dressed, her hair neatly styled, her expression pale but composed. The difference was astonishing. She still held Eunice’s hand tightly, drawing strength from her daughter’s presence.

Robert and Clara entered the room, looking visibly aged and haggard under the relentless scrutiny. Robert was furious; Clara was terrified.

Judge Han, a family court specialist known for her sharp intellect, opened the proceedings. Mr. Kwon presented the DNA evidence and the motion for an immediate, temporary order granting Florence sole physical and legal custody of Eunice, citing the father’s “demonstrated history of criminal deceit, conspiracy, and emotional cruelty that led to the severe psychological incapacitation of the mother.”

Robert’s lawyer, Silas, countered furiously, painting Florence as an unstable drug addict, a vagrant unfit to raise a child. “Your Honor, the medical records clearly show a history of severe mental illness! This woman lived in rags on the street! The father is a pillar of the community, capable of providing a safe, stable home!”

Judge Han listened patiently, then looked directly at Florence. “Ms. Vance, the court must assess your fitness. Can you speak to the court about your current state of mind and your understanding of your daughter’s needs?”

The entire room held its breath. This was the moment of truth. Would the ‘mad woman’ emerge?

Florence took a slow, deep breath, tightened her grip on Eunice’s hand, and spoke, her voice thin but steady.

“Your Honor, I was not always sick. I was made sick. When I was told my baby was gone, the grief tore my mind from my body. I walked the streets for years, looking for the ghost of my child. The rags were my mourning clothes. The madness was my defense.”

She paused, looking Robert dead in the eye, stripping him bare of his pretense.

“But when I saw my daughter, Eunice, my memory returned. The madness left. My mind healed because the lie was broken. I am a mother who has been fighting through death for nine years. I am a threat to no one but the man who stole my life. I know my daughter needs stability. And the only true stability she needs is the truth, and the mother she was stolen from. I may have worn rags, but he wore a mask. And my rags were honest.”

A palpable gasp went through the room. Robert Thorne’s face flushed crimson, his mask violently ripped off.

Judge Han did not look at Robert. She looked at the DNA report, then at the media coverage, and finally at Florence.

“Mr. Silas, the court finds the evidence of criminal conspiracy and parental alienation concerning enough to warrant protective measures,” Judge Han announced firmly. “The DNA is irrefutable. Given the extraordinary circumstances, the court grants temporary legal and physical custody of Eunice Vance to Florence Vance forthwith. Furthermore, Mr. Vance and Ms. Clara Vance are subject to a temporary restraining order, prohibiting contact with both Florence and Eunice until a full psychological and financial discovery can be completed.”

Robert roared, leaping from his seat. “This is an outrage! I’ll ruin you, Judge! I’ll appeal this!”

“Silence, Mr. Vance!” Judge Han slammed her gavel down with thunderous finality. “Your outburst only confirms the court’s concern for your daughter’s immediate safety. Bailiff, please escort Mr. Vance from the courtroom.”

As Robert was led away, screaming threats, Florence looked at Eunice, a single tear of pure, hard-won victory tracking down her cheek. The battle was far from over, but the land of the living had finally recognized Florence Vance, and she was coming to reclaim every single thing that had been stolen. The era of the mad woman was over. The fight of the rightful mother had begun.