The courtroom is all polished wood paneling and classical decor. It’s my first time in a courtroom, and it looks exactly like something I would expect out of an old 70s style crime thriller. If I was here under different circumstances, I could even enjoy sitting in the beautiful room and admiring the attention to detail that went into the construction, but right now my mind is on Sophie.

Today is a preliminary hearing, and Liam is meeting with the lawyers, the judge, and Julianne. They are all in the back right now having a discussion, and apparently this is where Liam or Julianne’s lawyers can make deals before the case really goes to trial. I’ve been sitting in the courtroom with a handful of court reporters, bailiffs, and a couple people I don’t recognize.

I’m still hoping the lawyers can find something useful on the USB drive I filled with files from Julianne’s computer. Anything I lifted from her computer would not technically be admissible evidence, according to them, but it could possibly point them in a direction they could legally pursue. And in a worst-case scenario, Liam says some of the men he hired are loose enough with their morals to be bought, and they can find a way to plant any meaningful evidence we find on the USB in a place we could legally obtain it. The only catch is Julianne’s computer was a complete mess. I downloaded her entire email history and grabbed all the folders on the desktop, but when I tried to look through it myself I realized it would take thousands of hours to sift through the junk.

I’ve been waiting nearly an hour when I get a call from the caretaker who is looking after Roxanne while I’m gone. I step outside the courtroom to answer it.

“Hello?” I say into the phone.

“Please,” says the woman breathlessly. “Roxanne is having some kind of fit. We don’t know what to do.”

“I’m on my way,” I say quickly, hanging up and rushing outside. I fire off a quick text to Liam explaining where I’m going and why before hailing a taxi and getting a ride back to Liam’s house.

It feels like the ride takes forever, and I’ve already called an ambulance by the time I arrive. I hurry inside and immediately sense something is wrong. It’s too quiet. If Roxanne was having some kind of emergency, there would be more noise. On impulse, I grab an umbrella sitting in the rack by the front door.

I round the corner toward the living space and my stomach sinks.

Jake is standing by the patio doors holding the caretaker at knifepoint. Roxanne is sitting in her chair, looking furious.

“I knew you’d come,” says Jake. “I knew if I told you that you’re precious fucking fake family was in danger you’d come.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

“You,” he says simply. “Except he already took what I wanted most, didn’t he? That’s too bad. I would’ve settled for taking your virginity before he could have it. I could’ve lived with that. Now…” he says, a sudden fury of emotion rising to his features as he clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the knife.

The caretaker whimpers, gripping at his forearm and quietly muttering something.

“Now I want more. It wouldn’t be enough to fuck you. I want to ruin his life, like he ruined mine. I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill her. And,” he says, squeezing the caretaker harder. “I’m going to kill this bitch if she doesn’t stop whining!”

She bites his arm suddenly, and he gasps, dropping the knife in shock and loosening his grip enough for her to escape.

I rush forward on instinct, thoughts turning primal, knowing it’s hurt or be hurt, kill or be killed. I swing wildly for his head with the umbrella. He ducks the first swing by accident as he bends to get the knife. He has the knife in his hand and is lunging for me before I can back away, but Roxanne rams into him with her chair with so much force that she’s knocked from the chair, but he is sent to the ground too.

I bring the umbrella down on the fist clutching the knife. He screams in pain, dropping the knife again so that I can kick it away, where it skids under the kitchen table. He grabs my ankle and yanks me down. My world turns upside down as I’m pulled forward. I twist, trying to escape, but only manage to land on my cheek instead of the back of my head. The force of landing knocks the wind from me, and I try to crawl away from him.

The caretaker throws a chair at Jake, who was just beginning to stand.

He’s stunned, but backhands her and knocks her to the floor seconds later. Roxanne is slowly trying to get back in her chair, but Jake ignores her, striding toward me with grim purpose.

He lifts me from the ground by my dress like I weigh nothing, face a mask of fury and anger and hatred. He slams me up against the wall and grips my throat, closing his fist around my windpipe, never breaking eye contact.

“I would have fucking loved you. You should have never broken up with me.”

I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. My vision is turning black at the corners. Strange, choked noises come from my throat and my eyes burn. I’m going to die here, helpless, kicking and clawing at him but he doesn’t care. He’s going to--

It all happens at once.

A dark blur passes across my vision and the grip on my throat releases. I collapse, gasping and coughing for air. My eyes are so watery I can barely see. I just hear a struggle and men grunting. I hear the sound of several impacts, like fists colliding with flesh.

I wipe the tears from my eyes and look up to see Liam, who is racing after Jake.

Liam?

He must have left the court as soon as he got my text. I don’t have time to think about the full implications of what that could mean for the trial though, not now. My head is still pounding and my face feels like it’s on fire. I follow them outside, watching as Jake jumps over the fence and Liam turns back to me, taking me in his strong arms and holding me as the strength leaves my legs.

“Thank you,” I cry into his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking me by the shoulders and looking me over, eyebrows drawn as he looks at the mark on my face. His jaw flexes, and in that moment, I think if Jake was still here, Liam would kill him. He would kill him with his bare hands. He looks toward the fence, as if wondering if there’s still time to chase after him.

But there’s no point and he knows it. Wherever he ran off to, he’s long gone.

“When is this going to stop?” I ask.

Liam holds me close. “I’m sorry it has gone this far, sweetheart. I should have fucking killed him when I had a chance.”

It’s only then I realize there’s something wet on Liam’s leg as he holds me. I pull back and see the tear in his pants and the dark stain spreading on his thigh.

“Oh my God,” I say. “He stabbed you?”

Liam looks down. “Yeah, it’s the only reason he got away. When I tackled him we slid under the kitchen table and there was a knife under there. I didn’t see it until he jammed it into me. “Believe it or not, I’ve never been stabbed before,” he says, somehow managing to sound careless about the whole thing. “Hurts like a bitch, actually.”

“You need to sit down,” I say, helping him to sit. “There are a lot of major arteries in the leg. It doesn’t look like you’re bleeding enough for him to have hit anything vital, but it’s better to be safe.”

I try to rip a strip of his pants free to tie off his thigh, but I can’t manage to shred the material. He sees what I’m trying to do and helps me, ripping off the bottom half of his pant leg and letting me tie it around his thigh. It’s only a few minutes later when the ambulances and police I called arrive.

The EMTs take a look at me and tell Liam he’ll need stitches, but the wound isn’t anything serious. I’m flooded with relief, especially when they make it inside and tell us that Roxanne and the caretaker are both okay as well. We have to sit on the back of the ambulance and answer questions from a pair of officers before Liam is taken to the hospital.

One of the officers is stout with a moustache where the other is tall and rail thin. The stout one starts the questioning. “Who did this, ma’am?”

“My ex-boyfriend. Jake. He had a knife and he was going to stab the caretaker.”

“Mhm,” says the man, though he doesn’t write anything down on the pad of paper he’s holding. “And I take it this Jake fellow stabbed your boyfriend here?”

“This is my fiancé,” I say.

“Pardon. He stabbed your fiancé?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Now, you and your fiancé haven’t been going through any difficulty in your relationship lately, have you?”

“What?” I ask. “I don’t see what--”

“Let me tell you, ma’am. You’d be amazed how often these things turn out to be the boyfriend. Or the fiancé. Murders, beatings, abuse, whatever it is, it’s amazing. I been doing this a long time and I can count the number of times on one hand it was actually who the woman says. Would you believe that?”

“Listen, fuck face,” starts Liam.

“Sir,” interrupts the taller officer, putting his hand on the holster of his gun. “I’m going to have to ask you to keep quiet while my partner conducts his questioning. You wouldn’t want to say something that might incriminate you any further, would you?”

Liam tenses beside me, and I can tell he’s debating whether or not he should push forward and speak or let these idiots do what they think is their job.

“Liam would never hurt me,” I say.

“Mhm,” says the man with the pad of paper, which still hasn’t been written on.

“I might hurt the two of you jackasses if you keep refusing to listen to my fiancée,” though, adds Liam.

The tall one’s eyebrows shoot up. “Violent tendencies,” he says.

The stout one nods, finally putting the pen to his paper.

“Look, since you dumbasses already decided I did this, can you let us get the fuck out of here? We have more important things to do than to let you two play detective. You can talk to my fucking lawyers if you have any more questions. Thanks.”

The stout man nods, writing down something as he continues to nod and slowly walk away. “Sounds good, chief. I think we got all we need here anyway. Been a pleasure. Y’all take care now.”