MasukBellmare Estate reminded me of my lover, Zane Blackwood. The moment we stepped through the gates, I felt the memory of him settle over me. The sprawling gardens stretched out before us, emerald green and impossibly perfect. The tall oaks swayed gently. Roses bloomed in soft clusters along the stone pathway. The lake shimmered in the distance, calm and silver under the early evening sky. Everything looked softer than I remembered, almost like the estate itself was exhaling after years of holding too many secrets. This place had been the beginning of everything. The beginning of our pain. The beginning of us. I looked around slowly and smiled to myself. “I never thought I would see this place again,” I said. Zane intertwined our fingers and brushed his thumb over my knuckles. “You are stronger than the ghosts here,” he said simply. I breathed out. “I hope so.” I remembered when Zane first proposed to me here six years ago.. I remembered the first time I stepped onto these grounds
The courtroom felt too quiet, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. I sat there frozen, hands clasped together tightly in my lap, staring straight ahead even though my vision kept swimming. Zane sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched, but neither of us spoke. We did not need to. Everything had been said in that courtroom. Everything had been shown. Leah sat across from us, her wrists cuffed, her face pale beneath the harsh lights. She did not look at me. She had not looked at me since I finished my testimony. She had kept her eyes fixed on the floor, her jaw trembling, her fingers twitching like she wanted to claw her way out of reality. The judge returned. Everyone rose. My stomach twisted so tightly I thought I would be sick. We sat. The judge cleared his throat. “After careful review of all presented evidence, including security footage, recorded communications, financial records, and witness testimony, this court has reached a verdict.” My nail
Catherine never showed up, even weeks after. I was bothered and anxious, fearing that she may reappear and ruin everything, but Zane told me not to worry. We had a greater battle to fight. It was the day of the final trial.. The courtroom felt too small for the number of eyes inside it. People pressed into every row, whispering behind their palms, stealing glances at me as if I carried something dangerous in my chest. Maybe I did. My heart felt heavy enough to bruise my ribs. And there she was. Leah. Sitting at the defendant’s table in a wine colored prison jumpsuit she tried to wear with dignity. Her hair was curled. Her posture was straight. But her eyes were a mess. They darted everywhere except toward me. I felt no satisfaction. No victory. Only a strange ache I could not describe. The judge entered. Everyone rose. The session began. And the world I had spent years trying to escape was dragged into the light. When the first evidence appeared on the screen, I felt my stomach
I followed Zane only until the corner of the courthouse hallway, where the guards stopped me and motioned for him to continue alone. It was what Leah demanded. She wanted him without me. She always wanted him without me. Zane placed a hand on my shoulder, steady and warm. “I will not be long.” “I trust you,” I whispered, even though my chest felt tight. “Just be careful.” He nodded once and walked into the small interrogation room. The door shut behind him with a heavy thud that echoed down the hall. A guard stayed beside me, but my mind was nowhere near the hallway. I pressed my fingers against my wrist where my pulse throbbed with restless worry. Inside that room was a woman who had burned my house, killed my father, tried to kill me, ruined my life, stolen my past, and aimed to destroy my future. A woman I had once called sister. A woman who I recently discovered loved Zane in a way that could only be described as poison. I breathed in. Out. And waited. Zane told me later wh
The courtroom felt colder than I expected. Maybe it was the air conditioner, or maybe it was the weight of every eye fixed on the three of us as we walked in. Reporters filled the benches, whispering, flashing cameras, trying to capture every tremor in my expression. Marcus walked beside me slowly, his body still healing, and Zane held my hand with a quiet firmness that kept me grounded. Leah sat across the room, surrounded by her lawyers. She was dressed immaculately, her hair pinned back, her expression stone still. She did not look like someone accused of arson, kidnapping, fraud, and attempted murder. She looked like someone attending a brunch meeting. Her chin was high, her smile faint, her eyes sharp. A queen who believed she would remain untouchable. But today, she would face the truth. My heart thudded as the trial began. Witnesses were sworn in, evidence was catalogued, and the judge’s stern voice echoed around us. I waited as the prosecution presented the timeline of the
I stepped forward, letting my heels click sharply against the polished floor as I approached the podium where Leah had been ruling the room with her poise and practiced confidence. The flash of cameras was blinding, but I ignored it. Every eye in the hall was on me, waiting, anticipating my next move. Leah’s smile was sharp, predatory, but now there was a flicker of unease in it, a crack that only I could see. “Leah,” I said, my voice calm, controlled, every syllable deliberate, carrying across the hushed room. “Why don’t we show everyone what happened the night of the fire?” Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but then she laughed, a sharp, brittle sound meant to mask fear. “Show them what? Lies? Fabrications? You have nothing.” I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. I held up a small device, a flash drive I had taken from Marcus before the event, and slid it into the media terminal at the edge of the stage. A hush fell over the audience. The glow of the projector lit up the







