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The days leading up to the preliminary hearing were a whirlwind of preparation and tension. I spent most of my time reviewing documents, discussing strategies with Jack, and making sure Regina felt secure in her decision to testify. Each day felt like a new hurdle, but I was determined to see this through.This morning, however, started on a particularly nerve-wracking note. I had just finished my breakfast when my phone buzzed with a call from Regina."Good morning, Regina," I answered, trying to keep my voice steady despite the knot of anxiety in my chest."Morning, Margarette," she said, her tone hesitant. "I wanted to talk to you about something before I meet with Jack later today.""Sure," I replied, immediately concerned. "Is everything okay?"Regina sighed, and I could sense her unease. "Iâm still committed to helping you, but I had an... encounter with someone close to Wilma yesterday."My stomach dropped. "Who?""One of her so-called hired people," she said. "They cornered me
The week of waiting for the judgeâs decision felt like an eternity. Each passing day brought a mix of hope and anxiety. I distracted myself by keeping busy, but my thoughts always wandered back to the courtroom and Reginaâs powerful testimony. The truth was on our side, yet I couldnât help but fear that Wilmaâs influence might still sway the decision.On the morning of the ruling, I sat with Jack in his office, clutching a cup of coffee I hadnât taken a sip of. Regina was there too, her presence a quiet reminder of how much weâd fought for this moment.Jackâs phone buzzed. He looked at the screen, then back at us, his face calm but unreadable."Itâs the courtâs clerk," he said, answering the call.I leaned forward, holding my breath as he listened. His expression didnât change as he nodded along, jotting down a few notes. Finally, he hung up and looked at me."The judge ruled in our favor," Jack said, a small smile breaking through his professional demeanor. "The TRO is revoked. Youâr
There was a soft humming woke me early, a gentle tune drifting from the kitchen. At first, I thought I was dreaming. It had been years since Iâd heard someone hum in the morningsâa sound that spoke of comfort, warmth, and routine. I rubbed my eyes and pushed off the blankets, hurrying downstairs.As I approached the kitchen, I froze. Grandma Victoria stood by the counter, organizing jars of spices with a tea towel slung over her shoulder. She looked so at home, so natural, that for a moment I forgot the battles we had fought to bring her here.âGood morning, Grandma,â I greeted, stepping carefully into the room.She turned, startled for a moment before her face softened into a smile. âOh, my, dear. Good morning. I didnât mean to wake you.ââYou didnât,â I reassured her, moving to her side. âI just wasnât expecting to see you up so early.ââI thought Iâd make myself useful,â she said, her hands delicately rearranging a jar of cinnamon. âThis place is lovely, but I need to keep busy, yo
About a few weeks laterâŠIt had been weeks since I last faced her, but the thought of her icy glare still sent chills down my spine. Today was no different. When she entered the courtroom, dressed sharply in a tailored black suit, her eyes locked onto mine like a predator sizing up its prey.The courthouse had a way of feeling colder than it should, even on a warm day. The air conditioning hummed softly, the scent of polished wood and faintly lingering coffee hanging in the air. I sat at the plaintiff's table, trying to focus on my breathing while the memories of past encounters with Wilma gnawed at the edges of my confidence.I swallowed hard and glanced at William, sitting beside me. He must have sensed my unease because he reached over and gave my hand a warm squeeze. His touch was steadying, like an anchor pulling me back from the storm raging in my mind.âYouâve got this,â William murmured, his voice low and soothing. âSheâs all smoke and mirrors. The truth is on your side.âI n
The morning light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the kitchen as I sat at the table, staring at my phone. My thumb hovered over Lucasâs name in my contact list. It had been a few weeks since weâd spoken, and while he was safe and sound in Vancouver with his father, my chest tightened with longing.With a deep breath, I pressed the call button and held the phone to my ear.âMommy!â Lucasâs voice chirped on the other end, bright and full of life.âHi, sweetheart!â My heart swelled at the sound of his voice. âHowâs my favorite boy doing?ââIâm good. Aunt Lety and I went to the science museum yesterday, and we saw a giant T-Rex skeleton! It was so cool!ââThat sounds amazing! Did you take pictures?ââYeah, but Aunt Lety wouldnât let me climb on it.â He giggled, and I couldnât help but laugh along.âWell, thatâs probably for the best. We wouldnât want to upset the museum staff, now would we?ââI guess not. When are you coming home, Mommy? I miss you.âThe lump in my th
A soft drizzle tapped against the windows as I sat at my desk, reviewing the stack of documents Jack had sent over. Each page detailed Wilmaâs transgressions: forged signatures, shady transactions, and records of her exploiting even Grandmaâs properties. Seeing her betrayal in black and white only stoked the fire within me. This wasnât just about getting back what was rightfully mineâit was about justice for my family.Still, the weight of it all felt immense. My chest tightened as I thought about the upcoming hearing. Would Wilma slither her way out of this, as she had so many times before? I shook my head, pushing the thought away. I needed to focus on what I could control.The ringing of my phone broke my concentration. Picking it up, I saw it was William.âHey,â I answered, my voice soft.âJust checking in,â he said, his tone warm and steady. âHowâs the prep going?ââAs well as it can,â I admitted. âIâm combing through everything Jack sent over. Honestly, itâs hard not to get ang
After several weeks laterâŠThis was itâthe final hearing. Either justice would prevail, or Wilma would continue to walk away unscathed, leaving behind the wreckage sheâd caused.The courtroom buzzed with a tense energy that mirrored the storm brewing in my chest. As I walked in with Jack, my lawyer and steadfast ally through this ordeal, the gravity of the day settled over me like a heavy cloak. The oak-paneled walls of the courtroom felt imposing, the weight of history and judgment imbued in their very grain. I could see Wilma sitting across the room, her expression icy and unreadable. But beneath her composed facade, I could sense the cracksâa subtle shift in her demeanor, the tiniest flicker of fear.âStay calm,â Jack whispered as we took our seats. âI have a strong gut this case is on our side.âI nodded, gripping the edge of the table. My palms were damp, but I took a deep breath to steady myself.The court official, a middle-aged man with a measured tone, began to read through
The air in my home felt different that eveningâlighter, warmer, alive with the sound of laughter and conversation. It was a small celebration, nothing grand or extravagant, just those closest to me, the people who had been my steadfast pillars throughout the grueling journey to reclaim what was rightfully mine.The dining table was set with simple yet delicious dishes: roasted chicken seasoned with rosemary and garlic, creamy mashed potatoes, sautĂ©ed vegetables, and a rich chocolate cake for dessert. It wasnât about the food but the company and the significance of the moment."To justice finally being served," William said, raising his glass of sparkling cider. His smile was genuine and proud, a rare sight that made my heart swell with gratitude.âTo Margarette,â Jack echoed, raising his glass with a soft smile.I raised mine too, the warmth of their words filling my chest. âTo all of us. I wouldnât have made it here without each of you.âThe sound of glasses clinking filled the room,
The rain was falling again.It always did on days like thisâdays that felt like endings.I stood on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the stormy waters of Anacortes, my coat pulled tightly around me, the hood shielding my face from the wind that carried the scent of salt and something olderâsomething like goodbye.Leon stood behind me. I didnât have to turn around to feel him there. His presence was familiar now, carved into my skin like muscle memory. Heâd been my gravity, my storm, my salvation, and my ruinâsometimes all at once.âItâs really over, isnât it?â I whispered, more to the wind than to him.He didnât answer right away. His silence was as heavy as the stormclouds above us.âI wanted to fix everything for you,â he said finally, his voice hoarse, like it had been dragged across a battlefield. âI wanted to give you a life that didnât hurt.âI closed my eyes. The ache in my chest pulsed with every beat of my heart. âYou did,â I said. âFor a while, you did.âI heard the crunch
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. âIâm not the same person I was before,â I said, my voice firm, unwavering. âAnd Iâm not walking away this time.âThe manâs eyes flickered with a moment of doubt, just enough for me to catch. And then, before I could even register what had happened, Leon moved.Faster than I could blink, Leon was in front of me, his hand grabbing the gun and twisting it out of the manâs grasp. The force of it sent the man stumbling back, but he didnât go down easily. His bodyguards rushed in, but Leon was already a step ahead, disarming one of them with a swift, calculated move.I stood frozen for a moment, trying to process what I was witnessing. Leonâalways so calm, always so carefulâwas ruthless. He was like a force of nature, determined to protect me at all costs.But the fight wasnât over yet. The man recovered, his eyes burning with rage. âYou really think youâve won?â he spat, his voice dripping with venom. âYouâre nothing but a pawn in a game you canât ev
The sound of boots drew closer, pounding the floor with an urgency that echoed through the cavernous halls of the estate. My heart raced as the reality of what I had just heard crashed into me like a tidal wave. The man who had once been a part of my lifeâmy familyâs betrayer, the one who had orchestrated their deathsâstood there, calmly, as if this was just another night for him.Leonâs grip on my hand tightened, but I didnât let him pull me away. I could feel the air thickening with tension, the walls pressing in as everything I thought I knew began to crumble.The intruders were only moments away.The manâheâsmirked, watching us. âYou think this will end well? Youâve no idea what youâre up against. My people are everywhere.âI took a step forward, ignoring Leonâs silent plea to retreat. âYou killed them. And you thought I would be the next one to fall in line?â My voice was a whisper, but it held a power I hadnât realized I had. âYou were wrong.âThe manâs face faltered, just for a
Next Morning at the Estate Archives. The basement was cold and damp, and the air smelled of mildew and secrets. Old boxes lined the walls, labeled in my fatherâs tidy script. Financial records. Land deeds. Correspondence.Leon sifted through a crate of documents while I dug through another.Then something caught my eye.A faded folder labeled: Project Thornfield.I opened it slowly.Inside were blueprintsâplans for development across coastal land that was supposed to be protected forest. There were signatures from multiple board members, including names I recognized.And then, one I didnât.N. Vallis.Leon leaned over. âYou know that name?âI shook my head. âNo. But look hereâhe signed off on the project two weeks before my parents died.âLeon pulled out his phone. âIâll run a background check.âI kept flipping through the documentsâand found something that made my blood run cold.An aerial photo.Of the cliffside. Our property.With a giant red X drawn over the coordinates where my p
THREE WEEKS LATER...The investigation moved faster than Iâd expected. With the board fully on our side now, the paper trail unraveled like a thread pulled from an old sweaterâeach piece of evidence exposing the next. Shell companies. Forged contracts. Witnesses who had remained silent out of fear but were finally coming forward.Still, no one had seen him since the day of the summit. He had vanished without a trace. No flights. No offshore activity. No messages. It was like heâd disappeared into smoke.But Dorian didnât believe in ghosts. âHeâs hiding,â he said as he handed me a thick folder. âAnd thisâthis will force him out.âI flipped through the documents. Bank records. A property registered under an alias. Hidden deep in the woods outside of Anacortes. I felt my stomach twist.Leon stepped up behind me, his hand grazing my shoulder. âLetâs pay him a visit.âThe cabin was barely more than a shadow tucked between trees. No lights. No car. Just silence and the thrum of insects in t
Sunlight crept cautiously through the cracks in the blinds, casting golden slivers across the hardwood floor of the safe house bedroom. I sat curled up on the edge of the bed, a blanket draped around my shoulders and the journal heavy in my lap. The cover was cracked, worn with age and secrets. My fingers hovered over the first page for what felt like an eternity.Leon was nearbyâhe hadnât slept much, either. He stood at the window with a mug of black coffee, watching the world outside with quiet alertness. When I finally opened the journal, he turned slightly but didnât speak. He knew I needed silence for this.The first entry was dated nearly two decades ago.July 14th. We signed the contract today. Two families, one future. The woman from Delmar Holdings is more cunning than I expected. She knows weâre desperateâand she used it. I told Mariana to trust me. That this was the only way. God help me, I hope Iâm right.My breath hitched. Marianaâthat was my motherâs name.I flipped thro
MARGARETTE'S POVBefore we could react, the door behind us burst open.Three armed men rushed in, dressed in black, their movements precise and rehearsed. Leon shoved me behind him, drawing his gun up in an instant. Dorian, who had been lingering near the entrance, took cover behind a cabinet, gun already out.âEliseâs father wasnât bluffing,â I breathed, my heart hammering. âHe had backup ready.âLeon fired the first shot, catching one of the intruders in the shoulder and sending him crashing to the floor. Chaos erupted. Dorian ducked low and returned fire, narrowly missing another attacker who retaliated with a spray of bullets that shattered the windows.I crouched behind an overturned table, the sound of gunfire drowning out my thoughts. The locket in my palm dug into my skin, its edges sharpâa painful reminder that I couldnât afford to lose control now.âEliseâs father!â I shouted to Leon. âHeâs escaping!âThrough the haze of smoke and broken glass, I saw the man slinking toward
The sound of footsteps pounding in the hallway was the last thing I heard before the door slammed open.I barely had time to react before a rush of armed men poured into the room, their eyes scanning every corner, landing finally on me. There was no mistaking the intent behind their cold stares.âGet down!â Leonâs voice crackled through the earpiece again, but there was no time to obey. I couldnât allow myself to hesitateânot now, not when the truth was within reach.I raised my gun, my hands steady despite the chaos unfolding around me. I wasnât going down without a fight, not after everything I had lost. Not after everything Eliseâs father had taken from me.Before the first man could react, I fired. The sound of the shot echoed in the confined space, the bullet finding its mark in the manâs chest. His body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud, but the others didnât hesitate. They moved in faster, their guns drawn, but I was ready.I ducked behind the desk, using it as cover
Dawn came in silver slivers through the cracks in the window. I hadnât sleptânot really. My mind was too loud, looping the footage over and over like a broken reel.Leon sat across from me at the table, sipping his coffee like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Neither of us had said much since the footage. We didnât need to. The truth had cut so deep, it didnât leave room for small talk.But I had questions.And I needed answers.âHow long do you think heâs known I survived?â I finally asked, voice hoarse.Leon didnât look away from his mug. âLong enough to start covering his tracks. But he didnât expect the locket to resurface.âMy hand instinctively reached for it. The locket was warm now, like it had absorbed my grief and fury. Inside was a picture of my mother and meâher arm around my tiny shoulders, her smile soft but tired. A photo I hadnât even remembered until last night.âHe killed her,â I whispered. âHe killed my father. For what? A project?ââNot just a project,â