Chapter 7 - The Trial of Shadows
Three months later.
The courthouse corridor was cold and brightly lit. Weston sat on the wooden bench across from me, wearing a cheap grey suit—a far cry from the tailored Italian suits he used to buy with my money. His hair was messy, and his posture was broken. Without his mother’s money and my quiet labor behind him, he looked remarkably small.
His high-priced defense lawyer leaned over, whispering frantically in his ear, but Weston just stared at the floor.
"They're offering a plea deal," my lead attorney, Mr. Vance, whispered to me. "Eighteen months of probation, full surrender of all claims to the property, and a permanent restraining order. In exchange, they want you to drop the civil fraud countersuit."
I looked at Weston. For five years, I had believed I loved him. I had tolerated the silent treatment, the harsh words, the endless demands, believing that if I worked hard enough, I would eventually earn his respect.
"No plea deal," I said softly.
Mr. Vance smiled. "I thought you'd say that."
When we entered the courtroom, the proceedings were swift. The prosecution presented the kitchen security footage from that fateful night. The judge watched in silence as the video showed Weston grabbing my hair, yanking me to the tile floor, and dragging me while Marguerite stood over me shouting about her birthday.
May you like
The judge’s face hardened. He turned to Weston with absolute disgust.
"Mr. Sutherland," the judge declared, his voice booming through the quiet courtroom. "Your conduct was not only abusive and criminal, but your attempt to financially exploit your spouse while subjecting her to physical violence demonstrates a profound lack of moral character. Court is adjourned for sentencing."
