Her voice rose, raw, breaking through the hush of the courtroom. "I couldn't! The Senator owns half of them. He made sure there was no record. I did the only thing I could do: I stayed alive and I stayed quiet. Until now."
Mira, in her chair, smirked like this was theater for her amusement. The Senator didn't move—just that marble stillness, like a man carved from stone and arrogance. I clenched my fists under the table.
Two weeks later, the courtroom buzzed, a low hum of expectation that made my stomach tighten. Every face, every note of whispering, every shuffle of papers felt amplified. I gripped the edge of the pew, nails biting into the wood.
The jury foreperson stood, clearing their throat. The words felt like a drumbeat in my chest.
"On the charge of stalking—guilty."
Guilty. My throat tightened.
"On the charge of unlawful surveillance—guilty."
The words echoed in the chamber. Each syllable felt like a strike, but a strike in my favor.
"On the charge of assault—guilty."
My hands curled into fists. I hadn't expected relief to feel so raw.
"On the charge of battery—guilty. Harassment—guilty. Criminal intimidation—guilty."
Mira's head snapped up at each word, eyes wide, pupils wild. She screamed—a sound so animalistic it made me flinch. Deputies swarmed, restraining her as she twisted and spat curses, lunging as if the air itself owed her obedience. I caught sight of the Senator in his seat—stone-faced, unreadable, like a marble statue carved for arrogance.
The judge's voice cut through, low and commanding. "Mira Golding, the jury has found you guilty on all counts."
Mira shrieked again, throwing her head back, the sound raw and desperate. Every curse, every spit of venom ricocheted off the wood-paneled walls, but they couldn't touch me anymore. She was finally accountable.
"Accordingly, the court sentences you to fifteen years in state prison," the judge said, hammering the gavel for emphasis. The sound cracked like thunder, reverberating through the room, shaking something loose inside me.
All eyes shifted to the Senator.
"Senator Golding," the judge continued, voice steady, almost clinical, "on the charges of fraud, bribery, obstruction of justice, falsifying evidence, and conspiracy, the jury finds you guilty on all counts."
He did not flinch. His jaw tightened, but there was no theatrics—no outburst, no pleading. Just stone.
"This court sentences you to twenty-eight years without the possibility of parole."
I exhaled, a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. It felt heavy and light at the same time. Freedom had a taste I didn't know I remembered—the air sharp, almost painful, but pure.
I left the courthouse feeling the sky open wide above me. Freedom didn't come clean. It never does. It came with scars, etched deep into me. But this time, they were mine. Not hers. Not his. Mine.
Beside me, January adjusted her coat with the kind of poise that belonged on magazine covers. Cold, flawless, unbothered. Yet when her eyes flicked to mine, I saw it—a small fracture in the mask.
"You did it," she said softly, the faintest curve tugging at her lips. "It's over."
My throat tightened. I almost laughed—becauseoverfelt too neat, too tidy a word for everything that had just burned to the ground. But I nodded anyway. "Yeah. Over."
She studied me, head tilted just enough to remind me how sharp her mind always was. "So what now? Do you have an idea about a future plan?"
I swallowed hard, "Yeah," I answered. The courthouse looming behind us, the sky stretching wide above. My past was caged. My future was a single name.
December.Get ready Love.
Chapter 20: Wistful Hearts
I returned to the classroom for a while, stepping back into my old routine, trying to convince myself and everyone else that everything was fine. But once the academic year ended, I packed my things and moved in with Margot and Billy. They welcomed me without a second thought, offering a home I hadn't realized I needed. Before long, I was teaching again, this time at their school.
Living with Margot and Billy was comforting. They wouldn't take a cent of rent from me—Billy actually laughed so hard at the idea he almost dropped a gemstone in his coffee. But I couldn't stand just taking. So, I paid for groceries, little home things, and surprise gifts. It made me feel less like a burden, more like I belonged.
