Chapter 8
The trial was the biggest the city had seen in decades.
Reporters lined the steps of the courthouse every morning.
Cameras flashing.
Microphones thrust in our faces as we walked in.
Victoria was led in every day in handcuffs, wearing an orange jumpsuit, her hair pulled back in a tight bun.
She still looked at me like she wanted to kill me.
Her lawyer tried everything.
Tried to say the video was fake.
Tried to say Harold had been coerced into testifying.
Tried to paint me as a gold digger who’d married Ethan just to get my hands on the family fortune, who’d forged all the evidence to frame an innocent woman.
He put Victoria on the stand.
And she cried.
Big, fake tears.
Told the jury she was a victim.
That my mom had been the one embezzling money.
That she’d found out, and my mom had threatened to ruin her if she told anyone.
That Harold had killed my mom in a jealous rage because he’d been having an affair with her.
The lies were so outrageous I could barely sit still.
But the jury listened.
And I saw doubt in some of their eyes.
Until the DA called Marge to the stand.
Marge told them about my mom.
About how honest she was.
How hard she worked.
How scared she’d been the last week of her life.
She told them about Victoria showing up at her house after the funeral, demanding the box.
About the brick through her window.
About the threats.
Then the DA called Harold.
He told them everything.
About the embezzlement.
About the night my mom died.
About the twenty years of guilt.
About Victoria trying to have him killed in the hospital.
He showed the jury the bruises on his arms from where the hitman had grabbed him.
Showed them the text messages.
Then the DA played the video.
The whole court went silent as Victoria’s voice filled the room.
Cold.
Cruel.
Admitting everything.
I looked at the jury.
The doubt was gone.
Replaced by anger.
By disgust.
Victoria’s lawyer didn’t even bother with a closing argument.
He knew it was over.
The jury deliberated for four hours.
When they came back, the courtroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
The foreman stood up.
“On the count of manslaughter in the first degree… we find the defendant, Victoria Hale, guilty.”
A gasp went through the room.
“On the count of attempted murder… guilty.”
“On all twenty counts of fraud… guilty.”
“On the count of conspiracy to commit murder… guilty.”
Victoria didn’t move.
Didn’t cry.
Didn’t scream.
Just stared straight ahead, her face blank.
The judge sentenced her to twenty-five years to life in state prison.
No chance of parole.
As the guards led her away, she looked at me one last time.
And for the first time.
There was no anger in her eyes.
No hate.
Just nothing.
Empty.
She’d spent her whole life chasing money and power.
And in the end, she’d lost everything.
We walked out of the courthouse into the bright sunshine.
Reporters swarmed us, but we didn’t stop.
We walked to the park across the street.
Sat down on a bench.
And just breathed.
“It’s over,” Ethan said, taking my hand.
I leaned my head on his shoulder.
The ring was back on my finger.
Where it belonged.
I twisted it gently with my thumb.
Just like I’d done a thousand times before.
“Mom would be proud,” I said.
Ethan kissed the top of my head.
“I know she would,” he said.
We sat there for a long time.
Watching kids play on the playground.
Watching people walk their dogs.
Just being.
May you like
Free.
At last.
