All Chapters of Beneath the Whip: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

JUDY’S POVThe air in the courtroom was suffocating, thick with tension that felt like a storm ready to erupt. I struggled to keep my breathing steady as the defense hurled accusations designed to rattle me. My vision blurred briefly, the weight of their words pressing down hard. Thankfully, Chris’ voice brought me back.Fortunately somehow, I managed to draw in a deep breath, forcing back the darkness creeping at the edges of my mind. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me break—not here, not now.A sharp gasp broke through my focus. I turned just in time to see my father clutch his chest, his face pale as he slumped back in his seat."Dad!" I screamed, bolting towards him, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.Chris appeared beside me almost instantly, his expression a mix of urgency and calm determination. "Give him space!" he barked, his tone cutting through the chaos as onlookers leaned in to gawk. Kneeling beside my father, Chris pressed his fingers

JUDY’S POVThe hours stretched on endlessly, each second feeling like an eternity. The sterile scent of antiseptic and faint hum of hospital machines combined with my anxiety, creating a suffocating atmosphere that seemed to wrap itself around me. I sat by my father’s bedside, gripping his hand tightly as if my hold could somehow tether him to consciousness. My heart pounded unevenly, each beat a painful reminder of the helplessness I felt.He looked so fragile lying there, his complexion pale and his features drawn with worry even as he remained unconscious. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only reassurance that he was still with me. I couldn’t take my eyes off his face, silently pleading for him to wake up, to tell me he was okay.Across the room, Chris paced restlessly near the window, his phone clutched in his hand. His footsteps were the only movement in the otherwise still room. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he alternated between making calls and star

JASON’S POVThe courtroom’s atmosphere felt suffocating, the weight of the case pressing down on everyone present. I watched in frustration as the fishmonger walked in, clutching his phone like a lifeline. His hesitant steps and nervous glances betrayed his fear, but he was here. Somehow, Chris and his people had found him.I gritted my teeth, trying to stay composed. "Who the hell found this guy?" I muttered under my breath, my eyes narrowing at the frail old man as he took the stand.Parker, our top-tier lawyer, leaned towards me. "We weren’t expecting this," he admitted, his voice low but tense. "I’ll try to discredit him, but if what he has is solid…"I didn’t need him to finish that sentence. My chest tightened as I glanced towards Chris and Judy. She looked hopeful for the first time since this trial began. And Chris? He was calm, collected, and damn near smug."Your Honour," Curt Davis stood up, addressing the judge. "We’d like to present a last-minute witness who has crucial

JUDY’S POV“There’s an old hut at the foot of the mountain,” he explained, his voice filled with an excitement that was contagious. “I’ve been there before—ages ago—and I thought it might be fun for us to check it out.”I gave him a skeptical look. “An abandoned hut? That sounds… romantic,” I teased, though my smile betrayed my curiosity.Chris grinned, his confidence unwavering. “Trust me. You’ll love it.”The descent was easier than I had expected, the faint light of the stars and the cool night air invigorating. Chris led the way, his hand occasionally reaching back to help me over a tricky patch of trail. He was humming softly, his mood infectious.When we finally reached the hut, I had to admit it was both eerie and enchanting. The structure was small and weathered, its wooden walls gray with age. Moss clung to the roof, and vines snaked up the sides, giving it a fairytale-like quality. A single, creaky door hung slightly ajar, and one of the windows had been broken, letting th

JUDY’S POVThe game between Chris and me was never about pain for its own sake. It was a blend of trust, power, and vulnerability. When he asked me if I was ready, my whole body started shaking in anticipation. I knew that we both would not stop this game. Why should we when I had started getting comfortable?Each encounter was an unspoken dialogue, where actions conveyed more than words ever could. The tools we used were not merely instruments; they were symbols—each one chosen with care, imbued with meaning, and wielded with precision. This was not chaos but a meticulous art, a language we both understood intuitively. I had long forgotten my tiff with Jasmine. I really needed to relax and not be bothered of what the world thought about me.Chris’ collection of tools was as much a part of our ritual as the actions themselves. They were stored in a wooden chest, its surface polished to a deep sheen that reflected the dim light of the room. Every item had its place, arranged with al