Chapter 8 - The Trial Begins
The courtroom was packed with journalists, spectators, and victims' families.
I sat in the front row, wearing a sharp, tailored suit, refusing to look intimidated.
James was led in wearing an orange jumpsuit, his arrogance finally replaced by exhaustion.
The charges were staggering: kidnapping, medical fraud, bigamy, forgery, and conspiracy to commit murder.
The prosecutor opened the case by calling Laura to the stand.
She was brilliant, tearfully describing the nine years of manipulation.
She detailed how he tricked her into signing documents and moving into my house.
The defense tried to rattle her, but she stood firm.
Then, it was my turn to testify.
I walked to the stand, my heels clicking echoing in the silent room.
I looked directly at James as I took the oath.
For hours, I answered questions about my finances, the mortgage, and the forged deeds.
“Did you ever suspect your husband was running a criminal syndicate?” the defense attorney asked, trying to imply I was willfully ignorant.
“I thought my husband was a struggling businessman who needed my compassion,” I answered loudly.
“I paid his debts. I trusted him. He used my love as a shield for his crimes.”
The jury hung on my every word.
The defense attorney scowled. “You expect us to believe you noticed nothing?”
“I expected to be the only woman in my marriage,” I snapped back.
“Clearly, my expectations were flawed.”
A low murmur of agreement rippled through the jury box.
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James glared at me, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
He knew he was losing.
