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Prologue
Beatrice
Stiflingheatstirsunderthe weight of my blazer, the black polyester suffocating me as it clings to my body. Paired with the formal black trousers my mom insisted I wear, this outfit is a far cry from my usual look. Appropriate though, given the day.
Lawyers argue back and forth, going over character statements, trying to find witnesses from that night, but there were none. It was only the three of us, and yet everyone has an opinion, or a statement to make about what kind of person we each are.
My mom grips my hand as I bounce it on my thigh, unable to sit still under the bright lights of the courtroom. Leaning over, she whispers, “Hey, it’s okay. He’s totally got this.”
I nod, knowing I can’t echo her sentiments. He doesn’t have this. I made sure of that when I walked into the lawyer’s office this morning with an affidavit in my hands.
As though he can hear my thoughts, his head jerks toward me, and his stormy-gray eyes lock on mine. He smiles at me and winks, and in that moment, my heart cracks.
Even under the scrutiny of every eye in the room, he seeks me out, ensuring I’m okay. But I can’t do the same today. Swiftly turning my head, I break away from his gaze, and in my peripheral, his shoulders deflate and his brows wrinkle, his mouth gaping as his stare pricks me.
Never in my life have I turned away from Maverick Brady, but today, I have no other choice.
A silence goes over the room when the lawyers stand, moving toward the judge’s bench. They whisper, and the viewers strain to hear their words, to know what’s happening.
Maverick’s lawyer turns away first, his gaze snagging on mine, and his clenched jaw tells me he’s lost his case . . .because of me. Sebastian’s lawyer, though, he smirks in glee, rubbing his hands together as he saunters over to the table where my ex-boyfriend is sitting.
When the lawyers are done speaking with their clients, Maverick’s eyes snap to mine, but before our gazes can clash, I look down. His anger is a palpable essence in the room, aimed at me and only me.
“Beatrice,” Mom hisses as the judge speaks, updating the court on the new development. “Beatrice, what did you do?”
Shaking my head, my mouth opens, but no words come out. The walls in the room become smaller, caving in as the jury is sent to deliberate, this new information changing the verdict before they even make it. Blood rushes to my ears, and my skin grows clammy.
Mom continues speaking at my side, but I don’t hear her. I hear nothing as my heart beats erratically, my vision growing hazy as dark spots dance in my periphery. I don't know how long we wait. Time stands still in this room.
Hands grip my wrists, hauling me up to standing, but it’s like a weight has been attached to me, pulling me deeper and deeper into a void of nothingness. Voices sound around me, their words meaningless when I zero in on a pair of gray eyes, eyes I know as well as my own.
His pupils dilate, the irises becoming almost black as a muscle in his jaw twitches. When his hands clench into fists at his sides, his shoulders growing taut with tension, I want to break my silence . . . but I don’t.
Not even when metal cuffs are slapped around his wrists and his eyes never leave mine. A sharp pain lances my tongue as warm liquid fills my mouth, the metallic tang of copper overwhelming my tastebuds.
Maverick’s parents face me, disappointment and rage stark on their expressions. My mom and dad swear under their breaths, looking away from me when I refuse to answer their questions: “Why Beatrice? Why did you do this? How could you do this?” I can’t—no one would understand.
When Maverick finally turns away from me, following the guards that lead him to an open door at the corner of the room, tears flow freely down my cheeks, streaking the foundation slapped on my face, but I don’t wipe them away. I did this to us. To me . . . tohim.
The one person who, no matter what, has been a constant at my side. And today, instead of protecting him the way he always has me, I sealed his fate and sent him to prison.
Chapter One
Beatrice
Two years later . . .
Mymomleansagainstthe doorframe, smiling softly as I haul the last of my bags over my shoulder. “Hey, honey, are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Flicking my eyes over the room, I tuck my hands into the sleeves of my sweater, fiddling with my fingers as I pull in a breath.
“You can stay home a few more days if you want. Your classes don’t start until next week, and I’m sure your dad would love to see you before you go.” She shrugs, her eyes glazing over as I pick at the skin around my nails.
“You know, most parents are probably itching to send their kid off to school after having them home for two years.” Grabbing my phone from the desk, I shove it into the back pocket of my jeans and grab my jacket off the bed before heading for the door.
“Yes, well.” Mom pauses when I pass, reaching for the heavy braid that runs down my back. She tugs at the end lightly, a wistful sigh escaping her before she drops her hand and steps out of the doorway. “You’ll call me, right? If you need anything? And Dad says he’ll pop in from time to time when he’s near you.”
Nodding, I tip my lips up at her. The smile is fake, but she nods to herself, accepting my lies. I doubt she believes me, but she wants to, so she’ll convince herself it’s true for as long as she can.
