All Chapters of My Best Friend's Dad: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

Tristan's POV The courtroom smelled like old wood and polished floors, it was suffocating and unforgiving. Every breath I took felt borrowed, like the air itself didn’t belong to me anymore. My stomach twisted violently, a slow churn that made me nauseous, and I kept my jaw locked tight, terrified that if I opened my mouth, something humiliating would spill out. A groan, a gasp, a confession I don’t even know I was holding. This wasn't my world. Boardrooms and silent wars fought over contracts and numbers... I know those rooms. I thrive there. But this? This place strips you bare without ever touching you. I sat rigid on the hard bench, my hands clasped together so tightly that my knuckles had gone white. My leg bounces uncontrollably, a betrayal I can&rsq

Tristan's POV The courthouse hallway smelled like polished wood and something stale underneath it like secrets that had been sitting too long. It felt like the kind of place where lives unraveled in whispers instead of screams.I paced. Back and forth. Back and forth.Maria stood near one of the tall windows, her tablet tucked under her arm, her phone pressed against her ear for the fourth time.“Rowan, call me back. Immediately,” she said sharply before hanging up again. She exhaled through her nose. “Straight to voicemail. Again.” She was growing frustrated as well.My jaw tightened. Rowan never missed hearings except with me for my prelim hearings. I do remember he missed a court case once for someone else. He had shown up with a fractured wrist, which meant this wasn’t forgetfulness. It was deliberate or something had gone very wrong. But given the fact that he missed my previous hear

Elona’s POVThe message came in just as I was tying my shoelaces. I stared at my phone longer than I should have, my fingers were frozen mid-motion, the lace slipping through my grip.Tristan: Rowan Patel is dead.The words didn’t feel real. They sat there on the screen like something misplaced, like they belonged to another life, another story. It didn’t feel like it belonged to mine and Tristan’s story. My chest tightened as I read the next message.Tristan: I will be assigned a new attorney. Don’t worry about me. Focus on yourself.Don’t worry about me.I let out a quiet breath, but it didn’t ease anything inside me. If anything, it made it worse. Because I knew Tristan, and I knew that when he told someone not to worry, it usually meant he was already drowning and didn’t want anyone else pulled under with him.My fingers hovered over the screen.Me: Are you okay? Me: What happened? Me: Do you need me?I didn’t send any of them. Because I already knew the answer. He wouldn’t tell

ElonaThe elevator doors slid open onto the fifth floor of VFS, and I stepped out with my gym bag slung over one shoulder. The polished white floors reflected the overhead lights so perfectly that it almost hurt to look at them. Everything inside this building was pristine, perfect, and spotless. Nothing inside me felt the same.My body moved on instinct more than anything else. One foot in front of the other. I smiled when someone looked my way. I kept my shoulders back. I kept my chin level. This was me being a model, surviving on repeat.My phone felt heavier than usual inside my bag.Rowan Patel is dead.No matter how many times I replayed Tristan’s message in my mind, the words refused to settle into something believable. Rowan had been alive two days ago. He had been sitting across the dinner table from us, having dinner while Tristan argued with him. Now he was gone.I swallowed the lump growing in my throat and continued to walk towards the changing rooms. Heels were striking p

TristanThe courthouse smelled like old paper, polished wood, and fear. I didn’t know how else to describe it. Maybe it was because fear had become the only thing I could taste since I walked through those doors. It sat at the back of my throat, bitter and metallic, no matter how many times I swallowed.I sat beside Reggie on one of the hard wooden benches outside the courtroom, my hands clasped between my knees, staring at the closed doors ahead of us. I hadn’t looked across the hallway once. I knew Grace was there. I could feel her presence without seeing her and that was the problem, every part of me wanted to look.I wanted to know whether she was nervous. Whether she was sorry. Whether she was sitting there with the same confidence she had when she first made those accusations. I wanted to see her face and find some indication…anything, that she understood what she had done, but I refused because I knew myself.If I looked at Grace, I wasn’t sure I would be able to keep the disgu