Richard
pov.
The morning of the trial felt heavy. I left the hospital earlier than usual, making sure Zoe would stay with Sarah.
Despite the overwhelming dread, there was a part of me that felt strangely numb, as if my emotions had run dry after weeks of worry and anger.
Martins met me outside the courthouse, impeccably dressed in his usual sharp suit. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, his touch grounding.
"Today's a big step forward," he said. "Remember, this trial is about getting justice, not reopening wounds. You're here to see Susan held accountable, not to punish yourself for her actions."
I nodded, though his words didn't settle the unease churning in my gut.
The courtroom was cold, and even though I'd prepared myself for this moment, seeing Susan seated across the room made my stomach twist.
She didn't look like someone riddled with guilt; she looked indifferent, like this was just another ordinary day.
The prosecution opened with a detailed timeline of events, recounting how Susan had manipulated Isabelle and infiltrated every aspect of my life to orchestrate her revenge.
It was clinical, precise, and damning.
But when Susan took the stand, she was composed, even defiant.
"I didn't want to hurt Richard," she began, her voice smooth and unwavering. "I loved him. I still do. But Sarah... she took him away from me. Twice."
I could see
the prosecutor interjected. "But the evidence shows that you were the side chick in their relationship the first
may not admit it, but Richard was mine
are you saying you orchestrated this entire ordeal because you believe Mr. Wright is
blinked, clearly caught off guard.
Mr. Wright, and you used that resemblance to convince her that Sarah was a threat. Isn't that correct?" Susan hesitated, her composure cracking for the first
"Under your guidance. Under your manipulation. You planted those ideas and used
as Susan's mask
"Yes, I made her believe it! But only because she deserved the truth. Richard was mine, and Sarah took him
like a sledgehammer. All this time, I'd thought her actions were rooted in bitterness, but it was deeper
a warped sense of entitlement
at me briefly, his expression hardening. I could see the anger simmering beneath his professional exterior, but he stayed focused, knowing this was the moment we needed to solidify the case against her. The prosecutor took over, asking Susan about her plan to infiltrate my home and her decision to involve Isabelle. She admitted to both but tried to deflect blame, insisting she hadn't intended for anyone to get hurt. "She fell down the stairs," Susan said, her tone almost dismissive. "That wasn't
the bench, my knuckles white. It took everything
Martins pulled me aside. "We're making progress," he said, his
against her. But we can't let our guard down. The defense will likely try
possible?" I asked, my
"But
the hospital that evening, I replayed Susan's words over and over
room, the sight of her lying so still nearly broke me all over again. I sat
I whispered, though I knew she couldn't hear me. "She admitted everything. She's going to pay
my time at the hospital,
presences, their support unwavering. Zoe kept me sane with her
relentless in his pursuit of justice,
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