LOGIN"And the contract was withdrawn shortly after." "Yes." "How did you interpret that?" "She followed through." Cole objected. Speculation. Sustained. "Ms. Holloway. Across three years of events. How would you describe Alicia Valentine's manner?" "Controlled. Always controlled. She was never visi
Her smile faltering. A shadow passing across it. "Because I want you to understand—" "No." A step closer. "You are here because you are terrified. Because despite everything. Despite the photo. Despite Edward sleeping with you. Despite wearing his grandmother's necklace. You're still not his wife.
Alicia's POV The screen came on. The photography gallery. Museum lighting. Artwork on the walls. I was already there when Lucy walked in. I watched myself from across a courtroom. The navy gown. Hair up. Standing in front of a photograph of a woman whose face was half in shadow. Lucy stopped be
"No." She picked up one page from her table. Set it back down without reading it. The movement of someone who had taken in every word long before this moment and no longer needed to see them again. "Mr. Valentine. You called Alicia Valentine thirteen times that morning." "Yes." "She didn't answe
Edward's POV Four steps to Cole's table. Folder down. His hand moved over it without looking up. Done. Seven more to the stand. I sat. Adjusted once for the shoulder. Hands open on the railing. The sling pulled across my chest and I left it. Cole stood at the podium. "Mr. Valentine. Please sta
Judge Harmon returned at fourteen minutes. She set the folder on her bench and read without acknowledging either side. Two pages. She closed it. "The exhibit will be admitted with the following limitation. The jury is instructed that Exhibit D is to be considered only in the context of witness tes
Alicia’s POV Monday morning arrived with gray light and the sound of Edward leaving for work. I heard his footsteps on the stairs, the front door closing, the car engine fading down the driveway. Then silence. I lay there for another twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling, before I finally moved
The crowd noise dimmed. Conversations paused mid-sentence. Thomas Carrington, the museum director, stepped onto the small stage at the far end of the gallery. He held the microphone with quiet authority, his suit sharp under the gallery lights. "Welcome to the Museum of Contemporary Art's twenty-t
Alicia’s POV The car was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of tires on pavement. My reflection looked back at me. Pale. Hollow‑eyed. A stranger inhabiting my face. Edward’s hands gripped the wheel. Ten and two. Posture rigid, the air between us tight with things unsaid.
Edward's POV The dessert plates were cleared. Coffee appeared in delicate porcelain cups. Senator Whitmore pushed back from the table with a satisfied sigh. "Vivienne, that was exceptional. As always." "I'm so glad you enjoyed it." Mother's smile was gracious, effortless. "Shall we move to the s







