The judge stares between the two of us, then tells everyone present, “We’ll take a recess to review the newly submitted evidence.”
As the attendees slowly rise to leave, Matt shares a patronizing look with his wife and she immediately lowers her head, her fingers still shaking.
Hmm. Interesting.
Instead of tucking his tail between his legs and crying to his beloved mafia for help, he walks to Sandra, whose eyes widen as her shoulders hunch. “You’re making a grave mistake, you ungrateful little—”
“One more word and I’m reporting this,” I cut him off as I stand by her side, then glare at Pearce. “Control your client better, would you? Or does that also need to be done for you like every single case you’ve taken?”
His lips curl in a snarl. “This isn’t over, Van Doren.”
“It sure as hell isn’t. Because your client just breached the restraining order.” And with that, Lauren and I escort Sandra out of the courtroom.
“Thank you,” she whispers shyly.
“Don’t thank me yet. We’re not done.” I make eye contact with the prosecutor in charge, Gerard. He’s been present during the trial since it’s strongly tied to the criminal case.
His brows are knit together and he doesn’t seem amused by the new evidence I brought forward. I could’ve given it to him or discussed it with him beforehand, but he’s on Pearce’s side, not mine.
Which is why I metaphorically twisted his arm so he’d look further into it and, for once, go aggressively against Matt.
He narrows his eyes at me and I wink.
That’s right, motherfucker. Either you do the right thing or the media will riot against you. Many humanitarian and women’s associations are backing Sandra on this. Even the public switched to her side once Lauren and I tactfully leaked pictures Sandra secretly took of her bruised skin over the past year.
She didn’t want to do it at first, but after a chat with Lauren, Sandra agreed.
It’s been submitted into evidence, too, but there’s still no medical report to back it up. Some fuckers on social media even suggested that she could’ve paid someone to beat her. Anastasia used to methodically hack into various platforms and delete those comments so Sandra didn’t see them.
She didn’t tell anyone this, but I caught her once while she thought I was sleeping.
We spend all day in the courtroom and it’s bloody annoying and fucking exhausting, or maybe it’s because I’m irritated and all I want to do is go home.
No, that’s not the part I’m more interested in.
It’s the person I’ll find at home. The woman who’s been watching her back every step of the way and decided to push me out of her life.
It’s not going to happen.
Ever.
Not when she’s not telling me the real reason behind it.
Hell, even if she does, we’ll work around it. There’s no way in fuck I’m ending what I’ve finally found.
The light to my shadows.
Sure, it’s not bright or constant. Fuck, it could be mistaken for darkness, too. It’s dim, but it’s there, the light that I’ve probably been coveting since the first time I saw her.
Since the first time I laid eyes on her.
I just didn’t fucking realize it then.
Lauren, Chris, and I go back to the firm for a short meeting, but I need to see her first, so I tell them to start without me.
After every day spent in court for Sandra’s case, I get into this funky dark mood that makes my blood boil.
And Anastasia is the only one who drives it away.
I don’t care how often she tells me we have to break up, I’ll just refuse until she comes to her senses.
When I reach the IT department, though, she’s not there. I find Gwen lounging at her post, drinking a milkshake and reading from a stack of files Nate probably gave her.
When she notices me, she releases the straw in her mouth. “Oh, Knox. What are you doing here?”
“Have you seen Jane?” Usually, I try to be around here as little as possible, mainly because Anastasia likes to keep everything a secret.
But fuck that, she was never my dirty little secret.
Gwen narrows her eyes. “Why?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Of course, I do. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you roaming around her, trying to intimidate her and stuff.” She stands up and places a hand on her hip, her drink clutched tightly in the other hand. “I protect my friends, you know.”
“And you’ll do that with a milkshake? I suppose this is the time I should act scared?”