All Chapters of His Choice Wasn't Me: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Melissa’s decline did not happen all at once. It crept in quietly, the way rot settles into wood before anyone notices the smell.At first, it was silence.Her teachers noticed she stopped raising her hand in class. A child who once argued passionately during debates now kept her eyes on her desk.When called upon, she answered with shrugs or not at all. Then came the refusals, refusing to participate in group work, refusing to change for physical education, refusing to explain herself. By the second week, the silence hardened into something sharper.Anger.She pushed a boy who accidentally brushed her shoulder in the hallway. She snapped at a teacher who tried to correct her homework. When a classmate laughed too loudly behind her, Melissa spun around and slapped the desk so hard the room fell silent.That incident earned her a visit to the counselor’s office. The next one earned James a call.This time, the tone was different.Not accusatory, but concerned.James arrived at the scho

The federal building had a way of draining colour from everything inside it. The walls were pale, the floors a muted grey, and even the people seemed washed out by the seriousness that lived in the air.James Striker sat in a small conference room, his back straight but his spirit sagging.A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead even though the room was cold. The hum of the air conditioner was loud in his ears, as if the building itself was listening.The door opened quietly.A man in a navy suit stepped in, followed by a woman carrying a slim file. They didn’t introduce themselves with ceremony. There was no need. Their presence alone told James who they were.The federal prosecutor sat across from him. The woman took a seat beside him and placed the file on the table.“Mr. Striker,” the prosecutor said calmly, “thank you for agreeing to meet.”James forced a polite nod. “I didn’t agree. I was told.”The prosecutor allowed a small, dry smile. “That’s how it usually starts.”He ope

The announcement came early in the morning, breaking through every major news channel like a thunderclap that no one could ignore."Federal prosecutors have officially set the trial date for Tiana Striker and her alleged co-conspirators," the anchor announced, her voice carefully neutral even though her eyes burned with curiosity. "This case, which involves attempted murder, corporate sabotage, and a seven-year-old warehouse arson that nearly killed business mogul Sarah Williams, is already being described as one of the most consequential trials of the decade. The trial is scheduled to begin six weeks from today."In a small coffee shop in downtown Manhattan, three strangers sat at the same table, all watching the same screen mounted above the counter."Did you hear that?" a middle-aged man said, shaking his head slowly. "They finally fixed a date. I told you this thing was not going to disappear."A woman across from him snorted. "Disappear? With how rich and powerful these people ar

James did not plan the meeting. That was the lie he kept telling himself as he sat in his car across the street from a quiet café tucked between two supermarket stores and a closed florist.The place was forgettable on purpose, the kind of spot people used when they did not want to be remembered. Rain streaked down his windshield, blurring the world outside into pale gray smudges.He could have driven away. He should have driven away.Every warning the prosecutor had given him echoed in his head, loud and unforgiving. Do not contact her. Do not contact anyone from her legal team. Do not try to fix this yourself.But James had never been good at living inside rules when fear had its claws in him.The truth was that James had been wrestling with this decision for three days. Each night, he would lie awake staring at the ceiling of his apartment, running through scenarios in his mind.Each morning, he would wake up more desperate than the day before.The pressure of choosing between his

The courtroom felt different the moment Tiana was called to the stand. There was no collective intake of breath like there had been with James, no sense of a man about to unravel.Instead, there was anticipation.The kind that made people sit straighter, adjust their clothes, glance at one another as if to confirm they were about to witness something deliberate.Tiana walked to the witness stand with measured steps, her back straight, her face calm in a way that felt intentional rather than natural. She did not look at James as she passed him. She did not look at Sarah either.Her eyes stayed forward, focused, almost serene. When she raised her hand to take the oath, her voice was clear, steady, unshaken. It was the voice of someone who had already decided how this story would be told.Once seated, she adjusted herself lightly, crossing her hands on the table, as though this were a boardroom meeting rather than a criminal trial. The prosecutor began, outlining basic facts, but Tiana d