His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 326 Self-incrimination

Ella

The golden chandeliers of the courtroom seemed to dim as Judge Milton beckoned Mr. Westbrook and me to his private chambers.

The anticipation was suffocating, every step echoing with a gravity that felt overwhelming. The grandeur of the courtroom gave way to the more intimate confines of Judge Milton’s chambers a room steeped in history, with dark wooden panels, shelves lined with leather- bound books, and a magnificent mahogany desk that seemed to have seen centuries of justice dispensed from behind it.

As the door closed behind us, Westbrook wasted no time. “She’s a filthy little liar, Your Honor!” he spat, pointing an accusing finger in my direction. The venom in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, but I wasn’t going to let him see that.

Judge Milton, always the embodiment of authority, didn’t look up from his desk. “You will refrain from making personal attacks in my chambers,” he said calmly, though the warning was unmistakable.

Gathering my composure, I met Westbrook’s fiery gaze. “Your Honor,” I began, “I’ve only presented the evidence as I found it.”

Judge Milton finally looked up, locking eyes with me. “Miss Morgan, your evidence, while unexpected, is legally admissible. Officer Daniels’ track record will need to be looked into. But as it stands, you have provided this court with solid evidence that cannot be ignored.”

Westbrook’s face turned a dangerous shade of crimson. “This is preposterous!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the desk.

The judge, however, didn’t flinch. “That’s enough, Mr. Westbrook. The facts speak for themselves. This conversation is over.” With a gesture towards the door, he made it clear we were both dismissed.

As we walked out of the chambers, I could feel Westbrook’s rage emanating from him. The air in the corridor was cooler than inside the chamber, but the atmosphere was thick with tension.

so close that I could see the veins pulsating on his temple. “Playing the damsel in distress, trying

him intimidate me. “I don’t play games,

who decided to play in a world she doesn’t belong to.

yet,” he sneered, “get the hell out of town. Or I might just have to send someone to give you

against me. But I wasn’t about to be pushed around. Holding my chin up high, I met his

I replied

aback. Then, with a mocking laugh,

that would test my resolve and my ability to stand up against giants like Westbrook. But if today had proven anything, it was that I

I whirled around on my heel

conversations, the dull hum interrupted only by the occasional cough or shuffle of feet. The grandiose room, with its high

chandeliers shimmered with a subdued light as I made my way back to my seat. Logan

echoed, cutting through the hum.

I took a deep breath and approached. The weight of Westbrook’s threat still hung heavy on my mind, but it was time to unveil the final trump card I held. Westbrook had dug his own grave; oh, how the mighty fall so

began, my voice surprisingly steady. “Before we proceed, there’s something you need to know.” I hesitated for a beat, gathering my thoughts. “Mr. Westbrook threatened

contorted into a sneer. “Lies!” he snapped. “More of

continued, “Fortunately, I recorded our conversation.” With a flourish, I pulled out my recorder, pressing play

of town. Or I might just have to send someone to

stunned silence enveloped the room. Westbrook’s face had turned a sickly shade of pale, his

stern-faced bailiff approached, his heavy footsteps resonating with authority. “Your Honor,” Westbrook spluttered, a hint of desperation in his tone, “this isn’t what it

the confines of my courtroom. This case is over.” His voice