Chapter Ninety-Six: The Trial Begins

The courthouse was the same one where Henry had been convicted.

I walked up the same steps. I passed the same pillars. I pushed through the same heavy doors. But everything felt different. The first trial had been about Henry. About my mother. About the past. This one was about Julian. About what he'd done. About what he'd tried to do.

Adrian walked beside me. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. Daniel was behind us. Claire was already inside. Felix had reserved the same seats in the front row.

Julian was already at the defense table.

He looked smaller than I remembered. Thinner. Paler. His suit was expensive but it didn't fit right. His hands were cuffed. He didn't turn when I entered. He just stared straight ahead.

I took my seat. I didn't look at him. I looked at the judge. At the jury. At the prosecutor. At the bailiff who read the charges.

Attempted murder. Conspiracy. Fraud. The list went on.

Julian's lawyer stood. He was younger than Henry's lawyer. Sharper. He looked at the jury and smiled. It wasn't a kind smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "What you're about to hear is a story. A story built by a woman who has spent years trying to destroy my client. A story designed to ruin a man who has already lost everything."

I didn't react. I just watched.

"The prosecution has no evidence. No witnesses. No proof. What they have is speculation. What they have is anger. What they have is a woman who will say anything to get revenge."

He sat down.

The prosecutor stood.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said. "What you're about to hear is not a story. It's the truth. A truth that has been buried for years. A truth that the defendant has spent millions trying to hide."

She looked at Julian. He looked away.

"We will prove that Julian Ashford conspired to murder Elena Voss. We will prove that he pushed her off a balcony and left her for dead. We will prove that he did it all to protect his own interests."

She sat down.

The judge nodded. "The prosecution may call its first witness."

---

I testified on the second day.

I walked to the stand. I raised my right hand. I swore to tell the truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth.

The prosecutor approached.

"Miss Voss. Can you tell us what happened on the night of your engagement party?"

I looked at her. I looked at the jury. I looked at Julian. He was staring at me. His eyes were cold.

"I found messages on his phone," I said. "Messages between him and my stepsister. They were planning to steal my mother's trust fund. They were planning to leave me with nothing."

"And what happened when you confronted him?"

"He grabbed me. He pushed me. He tried to keep me from leaving."

"And then?"

"And then he pushed me off the balcony."

The prosecutor paused. She let the words settle.

"Can you tell us what happened next?"

"I fell. I hit the ground. I died."

The courtroom was silent.

"I died," I repeated. "And then I woke up. Five years earlier. In my childhood bedroom. On the morning of my engagement party."

The jury stared at me. Some of them didn't believe me. I could see it in their eyes. But I didn't care. I was telling the truth.

"I know how it sounds," I said. "I know it sounds impossible. But it's the truth. I lived it. I died. I came back. And I spent the next two years making sure that the people who hurt me—the people who killed my mother—would never hurt anyone again."

The prosecutor nodded. She turned to the defense.

"Your witness."

Julian's lawyer stood. He walked to me. He smiled. It wasn't a kind smile.

"Miss Voss. You claim you died. You claim you came back. You claim you lived your life twice."

"Yes."

"And you expect this jury to believe you?"

"I don't expect anything. I'm just telling the truth."

"The truth. A truth that no one can verify. A truth that no one can prove. A truth that exists only in your mind."

"The evidence exists. The records. The documents. The witnesses. Everything I've done since I came back has been documented."

"By you. By your husband. By your team. All of whom have a vested interest in seeing my client convicted."

I didn't respond. I just looked at him.

"No further questions."

---

The trial lasted two weeks.

Felix testified. Sloane testified. Daniel testified. Claire testified. Even the hotel staff testified—the ones who had been working the night of the engagement party. The ones who had seen Julian grab me. The ones who had seen him push me.

Julian's lawyer fought back. He questioned every witness. He challenged every document. He called the evidence "a fabrication" and "a conspiracy." But he couldn't explain the messages. He couldn't explain the witnesses. He couldn't explain the recordings.

On the final day, the prosecution gave its closing argument.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said. "What you've heard over the past two weeks is not speculation. It's not anger. It's not revenge. It's the truth. A truth that Julian Ashford has spent years trying to hide. A truth that he thought would never see the light of day."

She looked at the jury.

"Elena Voss died on that balcony. She came back. She fought. She won. And now she's asking you to do what is right. She's asking you to hold Julian Ashford accountable for what he did."

She paused.

"That's all she's ever asked for. Justice. For her mother. For herself. For everyone he's hurt."

She sat down.

The jury deliberated for four hours.

They came back with a verdict.

Guilty.

On all counts.

---

That night, I sat on the balcony.

Adrian was beside me. He didn't speak. He didn't reach for me. He just sat there.

The city hummed outside. The lights flickered. I watched them.

"It's over," I said.

"Yes."

"He's going to prison. For the rest of his life."

"Yes."

"Julian. Henry. Everyone."

"Yes."

I turned. I looked at him.

"I thought I'd feel something," I said. "I thought I'd feel triumphant. Or satisfied. Or something."

"And you don't?"

"No."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "You will."

"When?"

"When you stop looking for it. When you stop expecting it. When you just let yourself live."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"You sound like you know what you're talking about."

"I do."

The city hummed below us. A car passed. A light flickered. I listened to the sounds of the night.

"Okay," I said.

He didn't reach for me. I didn't reach for him. We sat at the railing, two people who had spent years chasing the same ghost, and watched the city breathe.

Tomorrow, the headlines would run. Tomorrow, the world would move on.

But tonight, the balcony was quiet, and the sky was clear, and for once, I didn't want to be anywhere else.