Chapter 9
The trial lasted three weeks.
Every day, the courtroom was packed.
Reporters, family members, curious members of the public.
Margaret sat at the defense table, dressed in a plain gray suit, her face blank.
Jason sat beside her, slouched in his chair, looking angry and bored.
I testified on the third day.
I was 6 months pregnant, my belly big under my black dress.
I walked to the stand, swore to tell the truth, and sat down.
The DA asked me question after question.
I told them everything.
About the lies.
The fake photo.
Being bedridden for three days, thinking I was going to die.
The doctor telling me I’d been poisoned.
Finding the will and the bank statements.
Jason dragging me out of the car, raising the crowbar over my head.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t stutter.
I looked right at Margaret as I spoke.
She stared back at me, her face cold, but I saw her hands shake in her lap.
When the defense lawyer cross-examined me, he tried to make me look crazy.
Tried to say I’d made the whole thing up, that I’d poisoned myself to get sympathy and money.
I just smiled.
“Ask the lab,” I said.
“Ask the doctor who treated me. Ask the security guards who saw Jason break into my house. The proof is there. I didn’t make any of it up.”
He had no answer.
He sat down.
Hale testified next.
He told the court about the will.
About Liam’s dad coming to him, scared for his life.
About Margaret threatening his granddaughter.
He brought the video of the will signing, played it for the jury.
Liam’s dad was on the screen, healthy and alive, saying clearly that he wanted his estate to go to Liam’s future children, not Margaret and Jason.
The most damning evidence came on the last day.
The DA played the security footage from our mansion, the night Liam came home from New York.
The cameras in the hallway had captured Margaret and Jason standing outside the front door, talking, before they called the cops.
The audio was clear.
“Once she’s in the psych ward, no one will believe anything she says,” Margaret said.
“The toxin will be gone in a week. No proof. The will stays hidden. Everything goes to Jason.”
Jason laughed.
“About time,” he said.
“Tired of watching that gold digger live in our house.”
The jury watched, their faces tight.
Margaret’s face went white.
Jason sat up straight, suddenly looking scared.
There was no way to explain that away.
No lie big enough to cover it.
The lawyers gave their closing arguments the next day.
The jury went out to deliberate.
We waited in the DA’s office for six hours.
Liam paced the floor.
I sat on the couch, my hand on my stomach, the baby kicking softly.
At 5 p.m., the bailiff called us back into the courtroom.
The jury was back.
They had a verdict.
The judge asked the foreman to read it.
Guilty.
On every single count.
Against both Margaret and Jason.
First-degree murder of Thomas Carter.
Attempted murder of me and our baby.
Conspiracy to commit murder.
Embezzlement.
Assault.
Breaking and entering.
All of it.
Margaret was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.
Jason got 35 years.
As the guards led them away, Margaret looked at Liam one last time.
She didn’t say anything.
She just looked.
And for the first time, I saw fear in her eyes.
The judge officially validated the original will.
The entire estate was ours, to hold in trust for our daughter.
Hale shook our hands, tears in his eyes.
“Your dad would be proud,” he said.
“So proud.”
We walked out of the courthouse together.
The sun was shining.
Reporters yelled questions, but we didn’t stop.
Liam put his arm around me, his hand resting on my belly.
We got in the car, and he drove us home.
May you like
Home to our new house.
Home to our future.
