Wedcuffed のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 311 - チャプター 320

Sarah POVMy lawyer’s voice was sharp and unforgiving.“Your Honor, we submit this as irrefutable evidence of Mr. Parker’s mindset, his self-admitted manipulation, marital rape, and his belief that his marriage gives him ongoing ownership of Ms. Darell’s body and their child.”Adrian’s lawyer scrambled to her feet, her voice strained and urgent.“Your Honor, we contest this recording. It could have been taken under duress, without consent,there’s no verified source. It could have, ”“It’s fake!” Adrian suddenly exploded, rising from his chair so fast it screeched across the floor.“That recording is edited! I never said that! That’s not even me!”The judge’s gavel slammed once, sharp and commanding. “Mr. Parker, sit down.”But Adrian wasn’t done.“Alessandro did this!” he shouted, eyes wild. “He forced me, he abducted me! He’s behind it all. He manipulated the video, this is entrapment!”His voice cracked with desperation as he pointed across the room.“He threatened me! He had me loc

Alessandro’s POVJail Facility, New YorkThe sterile drone of the visitation room droned in my ears like an invisible, annoying insect. I sat motionless, my elbows resting on the chilly metal table, my hands clasped together in anticipation.I envisioned this meeting in countless ways. I had envisioned anger.Aggression. Contentment.Yet now that I found myself here, what I experienced was something completely differentI wanted to see him.I wanted to see what was left of him when the spotlight was gone. When his kingdom had crumbled.When the door clanged open, and Adrian was marched inside, I didn’t know what I expected.But I didn’t expect him to still look so… polished.Crisp prison-issued shirt tucked in neatly. Hair still combed back. Chin lifted in that same rehearsed defiance.He walked in like he still believed this wasn’t real. Like someone would come along any minute now and explain it had all been a big misunderstanding.And yet, his eyes.His eyes were frantic.I didn’t

Adrian’s POVFew Months LaterThe walls are too white.Too quiet.They buzz when the light hits them, like they’re judging me. Or maybe I’m judging myself.No.I’m not the villain here.They made me into one.I ignored the scrape of concrete beneath my bare feet as I paced the length of the cell once more.Just to show that this place wasnt permanent I clawed my hands against the cinderblock wall earlier leaving them raw.It isn’t.It can’t be.I wasn’t supposed to end up here.She was supposed to understand.Sarah.She was mine.Remembering her I landed hard on the side of the cot, my head cradled in my hands. Her visage stuck in my mind, serene and determined in the courtroom, sharing her truth as if it were holy literature.Lies soaked in emotion. But they believed her. Of course, they did.A woman cries, and the world kneels. A man cries, and he’s a monster.No one cared that I was falling apart too.That I didn’t mean for things to go that far.She was my wife.She moaned, she

Sarah’s POVEster’s Apartment, New YorkThe city beyond the window of Ester's apartment has started to sparkle, covered with a soft amber glow as the sun was setting down the buildings.The apartment's scent was a mixture of peonies and vanilla candles, and small pieces of ivory lace, blush-toned satin, ribbons, along with-half-drank lattes were scattered all over the floor.Noah was outside on the balcony, his body wrapped around the fairy lights, and he was jokingly swearing as he corrected them every few minutes. His humming, comically off-key, drifted in like background music.Ester was half in bridal crisis mode, half in a giddy glow of anticipation, tapping between Pinterest boards and scrawled notes in her wedding planner.I sat cross-legged on the rug, holding up a mock bouquet for her opinion. "You realize you're like, three tiers deep in florals at this point, right?""Sarah, flowers are very important," she said, taking the bouquet from me. "Besides, you should consider you

Adrian’s POVI was unable to sleep the previous night. The hours stretched into one another, an indistinct dark haze, interrupted only by the faint clanging of metal doors and the uneasy movement of fellow inmates.Today, Gabriel turns one.My son. My blood.And I’m not there.Morning air was chilly and gray. There was no shelter from the cold provided by the thin blanket. I looked at my hands while sitting on the edge of the cot with my elbows resting on my knees. Their appearance had changed, they were smaller, their skin was tauter over their bones, and they had little tremors that never truly went away.I wondered what Gabriel’s hands look like. Small, plump hands perhaps, reaching for cake, spreading icing all over.Somewhere nearby, in a cozy apartment filled with joy and brightness, they’re rejoicing. Sarah will put him in something fresh, perhaps a small white shirt with buttons she selected thoughtfully.She’ll hold him on her hip, press kisses into his soft hair.And him,