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Scarlett's First Full Testimony 2
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2026-05-30 15:00:27My legs were shaking so badly I could barely find the steps as I walked down from the stand. The room felt like it was spinning, the faces of the reporters blurring into a wash of pale skin and flashing lenses. But then a hand caught my elbow—thick, warm, and solid. Roman didn't wait for the bailiff to clear the path. He stepped right into the well of the court, pulling my arm over his shoulder and guiding me through the heavy wooden gate before the press could
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My Ex-Boyfriend is my New Step-Brother Scarlett's First Full Testimony 2
My legs were shaking so badly I could barely find the steps as I walked down from the stand. The room felt like it was spinning, the faces of the reporters blurring into a wash of pale skin and flashing lenses. But then a hand caught my elbow—thick, warm, and solid. Roman didn't wait for the bailiff to clear the path. He stepped right into the well of the court, pulling my arm over his shoulder and guiding me through the heavy wooden gate before the press could even stand up.We didn't go to the public hallway. We pushed straight through the side exit Miller had left unlatched, into the concrete maintenance tunnel that ran behind the utility rooms. The moment the heavy steel door slammed shut behind us, cutting off the sudden roar of the courtroom crowd, my knees completely gave out.Roman caught me before I hit the floor, his back hitting the concrete wall as he slid down with me, pu
My Ex-Boyfriend is my New Step-Brother Scarlett’s First Full Testimony
"Just breathe, Scar. Just remember to take a breath after every sentence."Roman was kneeling in front of me in the tiny, windowless side room, his hands firmly gripping my bare knees. The morning sun was trying to bleed through the frosted glass of the transom window, but it just looked like gray static. My chest was so tight it felt like someone had wrapped a steel band around my ribs, and every time I tried to swallow, my throat clicked. The court bailiff had already knocked once. The fifteen-minute recess was over. It was time for the real thing."I feel like if I open my mouth, the wrong voice is going to come out," I whispered, my fingers knotting into the rough wool of his jacket. "I keep hearing the scripts he wrote for me. The ones from the charity galas. 'Reed Global stands for integrity, family, and future.' I can still recite them by heart, Roman. What if my brain just defaults to the lie because it’s safer?""The lie isn't safer anymore," Roman said, his voice dropping in
My Ex-Boyfriend is my New Step-Brother The “System”
The room was completely silent, waiting for me to falter, waiting for the "Angel" to break down and cry about how hard it was to be rich. I took a deep breath, feeling the air in my lungs, feeling the warmth of the diner we’d just left, the reality of the small cabin in the mountains where nobody cared what I wore."The dress didn't belong to me," I said, my voice sounding flat and steady in the large room. "Marcus bought the dress because he was presenting me as a billboard for his company. If I didn't wear the dress, he told the security team at the gate that my car wasn't allowed to leave the property. If I didn't use the credit cards he gave me at the specific stores he chose, he turned off the electricity in my mother's cottage in upstate New York. The money wasn't an allowance. It was a leash. Every dollar he spent on me was a receipt he kept to remind me exactly what it would cost if I ever tr
My Ex-Boyfriend is my New Step-Brother The Media Learns the Word “System”
"They aren't calling it a family feud anymore, Roman. Look at the screen," I said, my thumb hovering over the glass of my phone as we sat in the dim, cramped corner of a diner three blocks from the courthouse.The television mounted above the grease-stained counter was flickering with the midday news feed. Usually, the anchors had that bright, gossipy bounce in their voices when they talked about the Reed family—the kind of tone people used when they were talking about a reality television show or a messy divorce among the wealthy. But today, the woman on the screen wasn't smiling. The background graphic behind her head didn't show a picture of me in a gala dress next to Marcus. It showed a giant, stark block diagram of the offshore network Roman had exposed yesterday, with a thick, red banner across the bottom that read: THE SYSTEM OF REED GLOBAL.
My Ex-Boyfriend is my New Step-Brother Roman’s Technical Evidence
"State your name for the record, please," the prosecutor said, her voice dropping into that quiet, rhythmic cadence meant to make the jury lean forward."Roman Sterling," Roman said.He didn't shake. He didn't look at the sketch artists or the row of reporters jammed into the back pews with their tablets balanced on their knees. He was wearing a plain gray suit that didn't have a label, his dark hair pushed back from his forehead, looking completely unlike the wild, broken boy Marcus had dragged out of the gala in handcuffs weeks ago. He looked steady. He looked like the stone walls of the quarry we’d just left behind."Mr. Sterling, what was your role within the network structure of Reed Global between the years of 2022 and 2025?""I didn't have an official title," Roman said, his microphone catching the low, raspy gravel in his throat. "Marcus Reed didn't put me on the payroll. I managed the offshore infrastructure. Specifically, the encrypted routing protocols that shielded his sec
My Ex-Boyfriend is my New Step-Brother The Courtroom Becomes a Stage
"He’s using the same voice, Roman. The exact same one he used when he told me what to wear to the charity dinners," I whispered, my fingers digging so hard into the fabric of Roman's jeans that my knuckles turned white.We were sitting in the front row of the gallery, the air in the courtroom smelling of old cedar and nervous sweat. Across the aisle, Marcus stood at the podium. His hands were clasped loosely in front of his pristine charcoal suit, his posture so straight and effortless you’d think he was hosting a private gallery opening instead of defending himself against twenty federal indictments."Let him talk, Scar," Roman murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against my ear as his arm wrapped tight around my waist, his thumb rubbing small, heavy circles into my hip. "The microphones here don't belong to him anymore. He can try to perform all he wants, but the script is out of his hands.""The defense expects the court to look past the sensationalized, highly emotional n
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