LOGINI’m curious, do we like Lucian? I know he’s not the most likable person right now… Please comment your thoughts 💭 and support this book with gems 💎 and coins🥰
Walking into the courthouse felt surreal. Less than two weeks ago, I had been lying on the cold concrete floor of an abandoned construction site, taking what I thought would be my last breath. Hart Sullivan’s knife had been buried in my body. I remembered feeling the blood soaking through my clothes. I had watched the sky disappear, and genuinely believed I would never open my eyes again. Yet somehow… I was here. Alive. But every step seemed to serve as a reminder that survival came with a price. The muscles along my left side protested with every movement. My shoulder remained strapped securely in its sling, and despite the pain medication, the bullet wound still burned beneath the bandages. The doctors had been very clear with their instructions. Rest. No unnecessary movement, no stress and no work. Camilla had nearly cried when I told her I intended to come. Even Claire… I smiled faintly at the memory. She hadn’t argued. She’d simply looked at me wi
For several long seconds, no one spoke. The silence inside the courtroom felt almost sacred, as though everyone was trying to process what they had just heard. One hundred and seventy million dollars— one hundred and twenty million from Dhark Holdings. Fifty million that Lucian had intended for me after our divorce. I had known about the missing settlement for sometime. In fact, I had gotten a call when Lucian had tried sending me the money. But hearing Theo admit it under oath… hearing him say it so matter-of-factly… It still made my stomach twist. Eva didn’t even look at me. Instead, she stared straight ahead, her jaw clenched so tightly I thought she might crack a tooth. Her attorneys, however, were already on their feet. “Your Honor,” one of them said sharply. “We request permission to cross-examine the witness.” The judge nodded. “You may proceed.” I returned to counsel’s table, taking my seat beside Jonathan. He leaned over just enough to murmur, “Be
I had slept for barely three hours. The moment my alarm rang, I was already awake, staring at the ceiling of my apartment. My mind had been replaying yesterday’s testimony over and over again, dissecting every answer Elise had given, every objection Eva’s attorneys had raised, and every expression on the jurors’ faces. Today would be different—it had to be. Yesterday had been about humanity. Today was about money— Paper trails, bank records and corporate fraud. The kind of evidence that didn’t cry, didn’t forget, and couldn’t be intimidated or even dismantled. I dressed more carefully than usual, in a charcoal-grey pantsuit, paired with a white blouse. My hair was pulled into a neat low bun, my makeup minimal. I grabbed the stack of files I’d reviewed twice before dawn and headed for the courthouse. ⸻ The scene outside the courthouse was even worse than yesterday. Television vans lined the street. Reporters crowded behind metal barricades. Even the poli
Hart didn’t laugh with me. Instead, watched me— longer than normal. Long enough to make me strangely uncomfortable. “You wouldn’t,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a statement. In fact, it wasn’t even a question. It sounded more like… hope. I managed to smile, whilst keeping my voice gentle. “Of course I wouldn’t.” He continued looking at me, like he was searching my face. Waiting. When I didn’t say anything else, he spoke again. L “You’d never leave me… would you?” He asked softly— a rare thing for Hart. The question caught me completely off guard. Not because it was difficult to answer— he had never been difficult to fool— but because it wasn’t a question I had expected to hear. I leaned forward slightly. “You should know me better than that.” I kept my answer deliberately vague. It was the safest one I could give. That way, the detectives behind the glass couldn’t accuse me of anything. Hart should have been satisfied, but for some reason, he kept looking
I had never entered police headquarters through the back entrance before. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Just a few weeks ago, officers had ushered me in through front doors with polite smiles, apologizing for the inconvenience whenever photographers crowded too close. They had treated me like someone worth protecting. Like someone important. Today, it felt like they were protecting everyone else from me. The black SUV rolled to a stop beside a steel door, far away from the crowds gathered outside the building. Even from inside the car, I could hear them. I could hear the crowd, shouting and chanting. I could hear the reporters calling out my name— not because they wanted an interview, but because they wanted answers. Or blood. One of the officers opened the car door. “This way, Ms. Sterling.” Finally, someone with manners. I stepped out without acknowledging the noise. I knew that if I looked toward it—if I let myself react—they would know they had gotten to me
After the initial conversation between my attorneys and I, the ride back passed in complete silence. Not the comfortable kind, but the kind that settled over everyone after a funeral. My attorneys sat on either side of me, scrolling through their tablets, exchanging the occasional glance that they clearly thought I couldn’t see. No one said anything else. Neither did I. I kept replaying the courtroom in my head. Elise’s calm voice. The way she’d looked at the jury instead of at me. She hadn’t cried or shouted. She hadn’t even begged for sympathy. Elise had simply told the truth. Or at least the version of it everyone seemed determined to believe. I hated that it had worked. The silence finally broke when the older attorney cleared his throat. “I know today wasn’t ideal.” I turned my head slowly. “‘Not ideal?’” He shifted in his seat. “Ms. Sterling—” “‘Not ideal?’” I repeated, louder this time. “That’s what you’re calling today?” Neither man answered







