Chapter 325 Piece De Résistance

Ella

“Objection, Your Honor!”

The courtroom was thick with tension, so palpable that it felt like a heavy blanket draped over everyone present. The high ceilings held shadows of statues from times long past, the weight of justice and history pushing down. The golden chandeliers that hung from the ceilings almost seemed to be swaying slightly, their dull glow illuminating the wooden panels which lined the room, giving it an age-old grandeur.

Mr. Westbrook, seasoned and reputed for his shark-like tactics in the courtroom, seemed momentarily caught off guard by my objection.

He blinked, his gray eyebrows knitting together as he processed the implications of what was unfolding. As his gaze locked onto mine, I could see a storm swirling in those deep-set blue eyes.

“Sustained,” the judge replied, shooting me a curt nod. I sat back down, feeling somewhat proud of myself. Across from me, in the witness stand, Logan gave me a grateful look.

But we weren’t out of the water yet; Westbrook wasn’t used to not getting his way. Other lawyers were typically so terrified of him that they practically rolled over for him in court, but not me. If I learned anything from my parents, it was that just ‘lying down and taking it’ wasn’t in the Morgan blood.

“Your Honor!” he protested, voice filled with indignation. “This is nothing but theatrics. Miss Morgan is trying to mislead this court with unfounded allegations.”

Judge Milton, a stern-looking man with sharp features that matched his even sharper mind, raised a hand, signaling Westbrook to stop. “Don’t be ridiculous, Westbrook,” he growled. “It’s a simple objection to what was, quite frankly, an absurd question. Continue.”

Shooting me an angry glare over his shoulder, Westbrook huffed and continued. I watched as he slowly turned back to Logan, shuffling through his papers as he did so. I had caught him off guard, that was for sure. He didn’t expect the female rookie lawyer to give him a run for his money in court, but it would take more than that to take him down.

“Very well then,” Westbrook said, clearing his throat. “Now. Mr. Barrett… Is it true that your family has a history of violence and aggression? Is it possible that this is a problem that runs in your genes, and it is not something you can escape?”

Holding back my smirk, I stood again.

“Objection, Your Honor!”

“Sustained.”

narrowed at me, but he continued. “Mr. Barrett: do you, or have you ever, involved yourself in cold-blooded

“Objection, Your Honor!”

“Sustained,” the judge nodded.

me establish my case, or do you plan on acting like

annoyance. “That’s enough. Miss Morgan, please step up to

growled.

the judge interrupted, holding up a hand. “I’d like to hear the rookie lawyer out,” he

could almost feel the whispers

us isn’t just a case against my client, but against the very essence

evidence pouch with the bullet casing, making sure it caught the light just right, making it gleam

casing was never shown to us during discovery. Just yesterday, I had to go on a wild goose chase to track it down, only to discover that a police officer had been paid to

was already trying to interrupt. “This is absurd! I’ve never seen that in my life.

voice was calm but held an edge. “You will get your chance to speak. For now,

I could see his arms folded in my peripheral vision.

Milton said with a

here,” I opened a folder, spreading out the receipts, “detailed records of every weapon he ever purchased, and not once has he bought bullets of this kind. In fact, these particular bullets would not fit in any of the firearms that Mr. Barrett

was piqued. Westbrook looked desperate to speak, his fingers drumming

have proof that a police officer was bribed to hide this evidence. And

whispers grew louder. Even the

now laced

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