Chapter 5 - The Legal Battlefield
The trial became the sensation of the decade. The press called it "The Funeral Massacre." Samantha was brilliant, laying out the timeline with surgical precision. I took the stand, refusing to cry, refusing to be the "broken" woman Silas had painted me as. I was a witness who knew where the bodies were buried—literally and metaphorically.
Silas, sitting in the defendant's box in his orange jumpsuit, looked like a caged animal. Every time I mentioned a figure or a shell company, he would start to shake. He had lost his suit, his hair was thinning, and his bravado was gone. But Margot was different. She sat still, her eyes fixed on the judge, a serpent waiting for a chance to strike.
