“Everett. I hear you’re about to head to the slaughter pen.”

I gripped the phone tighter. “If you mean finally revealing the truth then yes, you heard right.”

“Enjoy your last words before they throw away the key.” He chuckled, but it layered with blackness. “Who knows? Perhaps, they’ll put you out of your misery and grant the death penalty.”

“Funny.” I laughed back, matching his tone. “If I were you, I’d stay away from that party. I have no intention of keeping my mouth shut this time.”

“You fucking—”

“Ah ah, language, Arnie.” I grinned so hard it almost broke my face. Tormenting him like he’d tormented me for years felt so fucking good. “Thanks for calling to wish me luck, but the next time we talk, I’ll be free, and you’ll be ruined.”

The shot of pure energy at hanging up on him raced through me now.

I pictured him spitting red and throwing furniture around like a demented gorilla. Hopefully, the stress of what I might say in court and the anger at not being able to control me anymore would give him an aneurysm or heart attack.

“Everett?” A guard appeared in the hallway. Holding cages decorated either side—some filled, some empty with awaiting inmates.

I stood, moving toward the bars, waiting for him to let me out of this damn zoo. “That’s me.”

“You’re up.” Striding forward, he pulled out a keychain, inserted a key, and hollered to another guard to press unlock at the same time as he twisted the deadbolt. Everything was so minutely controlled, as if I’d commit murder right here beneath the courtroom surrounded by police.

The moment it was open, he held up silver handcuffs and waited until I pushed my arms forward for him to shackle me.

I cringed against the cold metal but kept my head fucking high.

Once pinioned, I stalked forward in my second-hand suit, walking beside the guard instead of behind him. Filled with conviction of truth, drowning in worry of failure, I told myself to stand tall and be ready to accept whatever happened.

I was innocent, not guilty.

And after today, I would be free for the rest of my goddamn life.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Elle

I WASN’T ON trial, but I’d never been so terribly nervous.

The jurors sat in their little tiered stands glowering at Larry as he sat proudly beside Penn. Dad had argued with me not to be seen at the trial. That it would be bad PR for Belle Elle.

I’d hugged him and told him I loved him then told him—in the nicest possible way—that he couldn’t stop me from being there for Penn, and he might as well get over it.

I loved Penn.

I was here for Penn.

I loved my company too, but if he forced me to choose...well, it was probably best not to make me.

I stared at the back of Penn’s head from where I sat in the rows designated for family. The courtroom was basic in its build with harsh wooden barricades and pews. The bench I sat on had already flattened my ass, and we hadn’t even started yet.

Fleur crossed her legs beside me, reaching for my hand as a door banged loudly and hate filled my heart instead of love.

Greg.

He marched with playboy grace, dressed in a similar looking suit to Penn. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, keeping his nose high and arrogance wrapped tight around him.

He followed the guard escorting him until they stopped at an identical table next to Penn and Larry, holding out his hands to be uncuffed.

While the officer freed him, tucking the silver handcuffs back onto his belt, Greg’s lawyer placed her satchel on the desk and pulled out documents relating to today.

I disliked her immediately.

Not because she represented my nemesis but because she was a hardnosed woman with hair tied so tight, her eyes turned cat-like with red lipstick smeared like blood across her mouth.

She looked like a weasel who wasn’t afraid to fight dirty and tear off a few body parts to win.

Sharing a few whispered words with his lawyer, Greg took his seat, his gaze catching mine.

He flinched before straightening his shoulders and giving me a smirk. He waved a little, mouthing, “Hi, Elle,” before his lawyer grabbed his shoulder and spun him to face the front.

I wanted to leap over the small wooden wall separating witnesses from accused and wring his damn neck. Not for what he’d done to me but for what he’d done to Penn.

Another door banged, and a judge arrived, climbing up to his podium in a regal robe. His black attire made my heart hammer.

“All rise for honorable Patrick Blake.”

The court rose as one.

There weren’t many people here—mainly court appointed reporters and the odd colleague from Belle Elle being nosy rather than supportive. I was glad and disappointed that the pews weren’t full of people waiting to hear the truth. Glad because what if we all failed? What if the long nights of research and evidence gathering wouldn’t be enough to save Penn from this bullshit charge? And disappointed because what if we did and he walked out of here a free man? No one would see honesty win over corruption or know how hard the battle had been.

The victory of winning over men who believed they were better than everyone would be so, so sweet but the failure would be so, so bitter.

“You may be seated.”

The court sat in perfect synchronicity.

I stroked my somber suit, hoping the all black affair would grant me strength. I wished I had something of Penn’s—a trinket or keepsake to clutch and give me hope.