Page 65 of Echoes of a Southern Song

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jinnie

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“YOU CAN HAVE A SEAT,” the judge says to me.

I nod. I’m not sure if I can stand. My legs feel like limp noodles. But I do. I keep my chin up as I walk back to the table. I don’t even look at Sam. He can kiss my ass. I hate that I had to say all of that in front of Jack and the other people I don’t know sitting in the gallery. I’m humiliated. Ashamed. Having to actually admit to getting played by Sam guts me.

It’s the truth that I’ve long accepted, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Jack is looking at me when I finally meet his eyes. He doesn’t smile. But I can see the anger burning there. I love that he tried to stand up and defend me. It was sweet. It tells me he’s in my corner.

I sit down and face forward.

“I’d like to call Sam Crawford to testify,” his attorney says.

I don’t know why I’m surprised when Sam walks to the witness stand like he owns the room. He straightens his stupid navy blazer, adjusts his tie, and flashes that smile that makes him look like a used car salesman. I want to laugh. Or roll my eyes. Or both. But I keep my face neutral and my hands folded tightly in my lap.

That stupid smile worked on me. I’m not proud of it, but I can see it for what it is now.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” the clerk asks.

“I do,” Sam says, clear as day.

I don’t scoff out loud, but the noise I make in my head is deafening.

He doesn’t know the meaning of the word truth.

His lawyer starts her questions.

“Mr. Crawford,” she says like he’s talking to a wounded puppy, “can you tell the court what led you to enter into a marriage with Ms. Parker?”

Sam’s chin lifts slightly. “I fell in love with her.”

What the hell? I almost choke. I want to throw something. Or possibly throw up. He looks at the judge with this pathetic little frown, like this is a Lifetime movie and he’s the misunderstood male lead.

“I gave up a lot to be with Jinnie,” he continues, gaze flicking toward me with this faux sincerity that makes my stomach twist. “I walked away from a startup business. It was doing well, had traction, but I couldn’t focus on both. I wanted to be there for her. Start our life together. I knew a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work. I left my studies, my business, and my friends to move to be here with her. Jinnie was... needy. She says I was always attentive. I was. That’s what she needed. If I didn’t text for an hour, she’d get it in her head I was leaving her.”

I feel like I’m going to be sick. My stomach churns as Sam speaks, his voice dripping with this fake sincerity that makes my skin crawl. He’s painting himself as the victim here—the selfless hero who gave up everything for me. And I can see it working. The judge’s expression is neutral, but I can feel the room shifting, the way people are looking at him like he’s some kind of martyr.

“Jinnie was... complex,” he says, his tone softening like he’s trying to sound understanding. “She needed a lot of reassurance. I thought I could give her that. I thought if I showed her how much I cared, how committed I was, she’d feel secure. But no matter what I did, it wasn’t enough.”

I clench my fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms. He’s twisting everything. Making it sound like I was the unstable one, the needy one, while he was just trying to save me from myself. My chest tightens, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

“The wedding... it wasn’t part of the plan,” he continues, shaking his head like he’s still baffled by it all. “But Jinnie wanted it. She said if we didn’t get married, she wasn’t sure she could trust me. She said she needed that commitment to feel safe.”

My jaw drops open slightly, but I snap it shut before anyone notices. That’s not how it happened at all. He’s lying. Straight-up lying. I wanted to slow things down, to figure out what we were doing. But he kept pushing, kept insisting that marriage was the only way to prove how serious he was. I felt trapped, like if I said no, he’d leave, and I’d be the one to blame. Now, hearing him spin it like this, like it was all my idea, makes me want to scream.

“And after the wedding?” his lawyer prompts, her voice dripping with false sympathy.

Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair like he’s carrying the weight of the world. “Things were good at first. We were happy. But then she started pulling away. She’d get distant, and when I tried to talk to her about it, she’d shut down. She didn’t want to meet my friends or family. She even started avoiding hers. I didn’t understand it. I thought maybe she was having second thoughts about us.

“And then there was the property,” Sam continues, his tone shifting slightly, like he’s stepping into dangerous territory but trying to sound casual about it. “Her parents have this land—a lot of land—and Jinnie talked about it constantly. She said it would be hers someday and that we could build our future there. I mean, who wouldn’t want that? A place to settle down, start a family... But when I brought up the idea of taking over the property, she got defensive. She said it wasn’t hers to give. I thought maybe she was testing me, seeing if I was in it for her or the land.”

I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. This isn’t just a lie—it’s a full-on rewrite of history. Did he not just take an oath? I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from shouting at him. He’s making it sound like I was the one obsessed with the land, like I dangled it in front of him as some kind of prize. The truth is, he brought it up constantly, always prying about my parents’ finances, their plans for the property, how much it was worth. But now he’s flipping the script, and it’s infuriating.

“I tried to make it work,” Sam says, his voice cracking just enough to make it sound convincing. “I really did. But Jinnie, she just kept pushing me away. She started accusing me of using her, of only being interested in her family’s land. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like no matter how much I loved her, it wasn’t enough.”

His lawyer nods sympathetically before turning back to him. “And when did you decide to leave?”