Racheal stood in front of the mirror, her hand trembling slightly as she guided the flat iron through her hair. Each strand fell in glossy, sleek perfection, but her movements felt mechanical, her mind miles away. Her reflection stared back at her, her dark eyes shadowed with exhaustion and pain.
“Always, love,” Damian said softly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “I’ll always believe in you.” As he held her, the storm inside her began to settle, though the pain never fully disappeared. She knew she would carry it with her to that courtroom, where she would fight not just for justice,
Racheal sat in the conference room, her fingers drumming restlessly on the polished surface of the table, a subconscious attempt to channel the nervous energy that coiled inside her. Across from Racheal, her lawyer, Ms. Jeanine Harper, sat poised and collected. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flicked
The atmosphere of the courthouse shifted as they walked down the hallway—voices and footsteps. Racheal could feel the buzz of activity around her, but it seemed distant, almost muffled, as if the world were holding its breath. When they reached the courtroom doors, Racheal paused for just a moment.
The judge’s gavel struck the desk with a sharp, commanding crack, its sound reverberating off the high walls, and the murmurs of the crowd immediately fell into an uneasy quiet. Judge Theodore Marlow, a man known for his unwavering sternness and unyielding gaze, spoke with a voice that rang out acro
Clara swore to tell the truth, her voice a whisper as she raised her right hand, her fingers trembling like fragile leaves caught in a breeze. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, making her seem smaller, as though the truth she was about to reveal would shatter everything. She stood at t
Racheal’s lawyer stood with a smirk on her face, the weight of victory hanging in the air. She turned to the courtroom, her gaze sharp as she addressed the defense. “As you have all heard, the truth has come straight from the horse’s mouth. Do you have anything to say in defense of your clients?”
Unknown Men POV The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of a desk lamp and the flickering shadows of the cigar smoke curling through the air. The boss sat reclined in his leather chair, his tailored suit flawless even in the muted light. The thick cigar between his fingers smoldered as he took
Rachel stood frozen in the doorway of the hospital room, her breath hitching as her eyes locked on the small, fragile figure lying on the bed. The machines around him beeped steadily, their cold, mechanical sounds a stark contrast to the warmth she so desperately wanted to feel in this moment. Her h
Unknown Men POV The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of a desk lamp and the flickering shadows of the cigar smoke curling through the air. The boss sat reclined in his leather chair, his tailored suit flawless even in the muted light. The thick cigar between his fingers smoldered as he took
Racheal’s lawyer stood with a smirk on her face, the weight of victory hanging in the air. She turned to the courtroom, her gaze sharp as she addressed the defense. “As you have all heard, the truth has come straight from the horse’s mouth. Do you have anything to say in defense of your clients?”
Clara swore to tell the truth, her voice a whisper as she raised her right hand, her fingers trembling like fragile leaves caught in a breeze. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, making her seem smaller, as though the truth she was about to reveal would shatter everything. She stood at t
The judge’s gavel struck the desk with a sharp, commanding crack, its sound reverberating off the high walls, and the murmurs of the crowd immediately fell into an uneasy quiet. Judge Theodore Marlow, a man known for his unwavering sternness and unyielding gaze, spoke with a voice that rang out acro
The atmosphere of the courthouse shifted as they walked down the hallway—voices and footsteps. Racheal could feel the buzz of activity around her, but it seemed distant, almost muffled, as if the world were holding its breath. When they reached the courtroom doors, Racheal paused for just a moment.
Racheal sat in the conference room, her fingers drumming restlessly on the polished surface of the table, a subconscious attempt to channel the nervous energy that coiled inside her. Across from Racheal, her lawyer, Ms. Jeanine Harper, sat poised and collected. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flicked
“Always, love,” Damian said softly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “I’ll always believe in you.” As he held her, the storm inside her began to settle, though the pain never fully disappeared. She knew she would carry it with her to that courtroom, where she would fight not just for justice,
Racheal stood in front of the mirror, her hand trembling slightly as she guided the flat iron through her hair. Each strand fell in glossy, sleek perfection, but her movements felt mechanical, her mind miles away. Her reflection stared back at her, her dark eyes shadowed with exhaustion and pain.