Suami Khianat, Terbitlah Bos Dayat

I have been dreading this day for months now. Today is the day that my father receives his trial sentence from the shrewd and devilishly handsome judge, Damien Hale. His nickname was “The Demon,” and I would always hear my father and his fellow lawyer friends speak about “Judge Damien “The Demon” Hale” and how they all hated to go in front of the man because he was so intimidating and harsh. The women, on the other hand, would sneak into the hearings just to get a glimpse of the man, and gossip spread about his beauty, which I had never witnessed until today.

It was raining and cold outside, early September weather, so I combed my hair and put on my denim jacket and black leggings, I felt that was appropriate for an eighteen-year-old attending a sentencing. I wouldn’t know, the only court hearings that I had been to were some of my dad’s, years ago, where he was defending a man accused of aggravated assault. When it came to my father’s trial, my mother kept me completely in the dark, trying to protect me. It was only because today was my father’s sentencing that my mother wanted me to be there for support.

“Abby! Abby, come on, we’re going to be late!” My mom shouted from downstairs.

Sadly, my father was on trial for stealing money from his firm, and no one was willing to represent him, so he was forced to represent himself.

“Yeah, mom, I’m coming,” I hollered back at her from my room.

Mom was clearly very on edge today. The hearing didn’t start for another hour and the courthouse was only twenty minutes from our house.

“What in the world are you wearing?” She asked as she looked me up and down before sighing, “Never mind, come on, let’s go.”

We arrived early and entered the courtroom to take our seats, the room looked entirely different from the outside appearance of the courthouse would lead you to expect; The outside looked old and dated, the paint fading and bricks shifted, but the inside was clean and polished; Dark wooden benches and railing, white walls, and leather chairs underneath fluorescent lights. We took our seats towards the back of the room and waited.

My mother was a nervous wreck and kept tapping her foot on the ground from anxiety. I wondered if she knew what my father had been doing and if he was guilty or not. I placed my hand on her leg and looked at her, “It’s going to be alright, mama.” She forced a smile on her face in response.

“All rise, the court is now in session. The honorable Judge Hale presiding,” The bailiff announced.

Judge Hale walked out of a door from the side of the room and time stood still for a moment. As he walked, I saw his long black hair moving like silk before it laid just above his shoulders, his jawline looked like it could cut paper if he wanted. He wore the judge’s robe, but I could tell just how broad his shoulders were. He took his spot at the bench and told everyone to be seated. My knees went weak at his voice that I dropped to my seat, rather abruptly.

Before he began to speak again, he looked up from the folder that he had just opened, and his eyes met mine directly. Did he hear how hard I sat down? Oh God, I could die of embarrassment.

Since all the hearings had already taken place, the jury had taken the last two days to deliberate, and it was finally time to hear the verdict.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” Judge Hale asked.

“We have, your honor,” the foreman said and my father stood up, he glanced back at mom and me and gave us a small grin of confidence, “We the jury, in the case of Steele and Warner versus Joseph Spencer, find the defendant, guilty of embezzlement.”

I heard a shuddered breath escape my mom’s lips and she gripped onto my hand, which was still on her leg to keep her steady. I looked at her and saw tears dripping down her cheeks, one tear at a time. She shut her eyes tight and let her head fall, resulting in her blonde hair covering her beautiful face. I could feel her tears falling on top of my hand, which she was still gripping onto in her lap.

My father is not the kind of person who has certain tells when they lie, like looking down or stuttering, he had been a lawyer longer than I have been alive, so he had a good poker face, or so we thought he did. He became enraged when he heard the word guilty.

“You cannot do this to me! You have no proof!” He slammed his fist on the table and the officer came to take him away, he began kicking his feet “You cannot do this! I did nothing!” From where he stood, I could only see the back of his bald head, but I could tell that his face was bright red with rage, I could see the color at the tips of his ears. Even through my father’s rant, Judge Hale seemed unphased by him.

Once my father had finally been removed from the room, Judge Hale kept on speaking the terms of his guilty verdict; a half a million-dollar fine and twenty years incarceration without a chance of parole. This judge really was a demon.

“Court is adjourned.” He slammed the gavel with such force that I could have sworn it rattled the room, I was surprised that the gavel didn’t split in half. Was he always that strong? Or was it my father’s outburst that had him heated? His voice certainly didn’t give any indication of emotion, if anything, his voice was sultry and hypnotizing.

As he left the room and walked back through the door he originally came out of, I realized that I didn’t notice what color his eyes were, we weren’t in the courtroom long, but every now and then, I could feel his gaze on me and I would look back up, but his eyes were elsewhere. Was he really looking at me, or was I fantasizing that the hot judge wanted the felon’s daughter?