The Last Juror

Blind pianist Elena Hart has spent her life proving that darkness cannot silence her. Gifted with extraordinary hearing, she can recognize people by their footsteps, breathing, and even the rhythm of their heartbeat. But one quiet night, while practicing alone in an abandoned concert hall, her remarkable gift becomes a curse. Hidden behind the stage, Elena overhears a cold-blooded murder. The killer finds her moments later. When he discovers she's blind, he makes a decision that changes both their lives. Instead of pulling the trigger, he takes her with him, convinced she can never identify his face. Damien Cross has never failed a mission. As the syndicate's most feared assassin, he trusts no one and leaves no witnesses behind. Yet the woman he abducts is unlike anyone he has ever encountered. Elena doesn't need eyes to uncover secrets. Within days, she has memorized every sound in his hideout, every lie in his voice, and every weakness he tries to hide. As a powerful criminal empire closes in, hunter and captive are forced into an uneasy alliance. With corrupt officials, ruthless assassins, and hidden betrayals surrounding them, Elena and Damien must decide whether trust is worth risking their lives. But Elena is keeping a secret of her own. She remembers far more about the night of the murder than Damien realizes. The sounds she carries in her memory could expose a conspiracy that reaches the highest levels of power and make her the most dangerous witness alive. In a world where silence can kill and every heartbeat tells a story, surviving may be impossible. But sometimes, the last witness is the only one capable of revealing the truth.

My grandfather, Tanner Kane, valued loyalty above all else. When his adopted daughter, Alanna Meyer, was sentenced to death for murder, he sent my mother, Florence Kane, to her death. All to preserve the bloodline of his late childhood friend. Alanna took my mother's name, married, and lived a privileged life free from hardship. Meanwhile, my mother died carrying a crime she never committed. My father, Graham Hart, and I changed our names and wandered from place to place. For years, I was mocked as a motherless child. Forty years later, after enduring humiliation and dedicating myself to my studies, I became a judge in Arbor Falls. Today, I am presiding over a controversial campus murder case in which the victim fell to her death from a building. There were no surveillance cameras. Only two girls were present, and each insists the other is the killer. One of them, Nova, comes from a poor family. Her parents are divorced, and she associates with local delinquents. She is known throughout the school as a feared bully. The other one, Scarlett, comes from a wealthy family. Her parents have a loving marriage, and she excels academically. Her grandmother is a beautiful and kind-hearted artist. Her great-grandfather spent his entire life doing charity work and was recognized as a nationally renowned philanthropist. Everyone believes she is a good girl who would never lie, so Nova the bully must be the killer. However, when I looked at the name listed under Scarlett's grandmother, I saw my mother's name: Florence Kane. Without a second thought, I turned to the person beside me and said, "Reject her request for acquittal."

My best friend Seraphine had not one drop of blood left in her body when they found her. Her skin was translucent. There were two dried trails of blood from the corners of her mouth, like she had wept herself empty long before the end. She left one note. One sentence: "Vera saw his face." From that day forward, I became the Covenant's greatest sinner. Because I knew who did it. But I said nothing. For ten years, I said nothing. Then Lucian came back. He was the one who had turned us, raised us, given us the only home we had ever known. He set the Soul Prism in front of me. "Tonight," he said, "you give me the killer." His eyes hadn't changed. That was the worst part. After ten years of exile, of stones and fire and nights that never got warmer, I looked at him and he was still exactly who he had always been to me. "Or you disappear from this world along with him." He didn't know. The reason I had chosen exile and starvation and a Blood Oath that had been eating my soul core alive for a decade — was him. All of it, always, had been for him.

On the day I was diagnosed with uremia, my husband asked me to donate a kidney to his one true love. I turned him down, claiming I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t expect him, my own husband, who was a doctor, to drag me to trial. The charge? Ingratitude. If found guilty, I would be executed on the spot, my kidney forcibly harvested, my soul condemned for eternity. But if the charges were dismissed, my husband would face immediate execution. His love would fall into ruin, plagued by illness and poverty. Everyone pressured me to confess. After all, when I nearly died in a car crash years ago, it was her blood transfusion that had pulled me back from the brink of death. But what they didn’t know was… I had been reborn. In my past life, I died never knowing my husband and his lover had orchestrated the car crash that nearly killed me. Now that I had returned, I would tear off their masks and expose their malice for all to see.

When finding evidence is by the skin of one's teeth, what price are you willing to lay to find the culprit?~~~She was just a typical girl from a not so typical family, who will seek justice after her loved ones' death. She was the only survivor in that death trap or at least that was what she knew. Their death wasn't just a mere tragedy, it was intentional. The purpose was to eradicate her clan, but they failed when she survived.When her only reason for living was taken away from her... What was left in her being were: hatred, anger and the burning fire to have her revenge, but it was hard to find since no obtainable evidence could uncover the culprit behind the terrible scheme.When her boss, turned lover, started to show affection, a beam of light was flashed in her being. The newly found solitude with him gradually replaced her negative feelings. But as another guy entered into the picture and claimed her to be his, it drifted her back to her intentions which led her to unravel some secrets she never thought existed. Join me as I lay pieces of information about the Culprit's real identity.

I opened my eyes to a dark, windowless room. Overhead, a voice crackled from the speakers. “Welcome to The Judgment Room. Each player will state the crime they committed. Do not lie. After all six of you speak, you will vote. The one with the most votes will be eliminated. “The game starts now.” In this deadly game, whose sins weighed the least?