Chapter 4 - The Face of Justice
The preliminary hearing was held two weeks later.
I refused to hide my face behind a veil or heavy makeup.
I walked into that courtroom with the scar visible,
a red badge of courage against my pale skin.
My parents and Melanie were seated at the defense table,
looking smaller and more pathetic than I remembered.
My mother tried to fake a sob when she saw me,
dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
“Oh,
my poor Sadie,”
she wailed softly,
loud enough for the judge to hear.
I didn't look at her,
instead keeping my gaze fixed on the judge,
a woman named Justice Sterling who looked like she didn't suffer fools.
The prosecution called the electrician first,
a man named Dave.
He recounted the scene with a quiet,
furious dignity,
describing the way my father hadn't even hesitated.
Then came the paramedics,
who testified about the "festive" atmosphere at the house when they arrived.
But the turning point was when Silas was wheeled into the room.
He was frail,
his skin like parchment,
but his eyes were sharp and filled with fire.
He spoke about the ten years of darkness,
the way Brenda would mock him while bringing him cold scraps of food.
He spoke about the day Gregory brought the brick into the house,
practicing the swing in the hallway.
The courtroom gasped as the premeditation was laid bare.
This wasn't a sudden burst of anger,
it was a cold-blooded plan.
My father's lawyer tried to argue that Silas was senile,
unreliable.
But then,
the "Old Will" was produced and read into the record.
The skip-generation trust was absolute.
By attacking me,
Gregory had triggered a "morality clause" that stripped him of every cent he had ever managed to skim from the estate.
He was now technically a pauper,
living in a house that belonged to the woman he had tried to break.
Melanie sat in the back,
her expensive dress now looking like a shroud.
She realized that she wasn't getting a millionaire husband or a luxury life.
She was the daughter of a criminal,
and her own complicity was being investigated.
I took the stand last.
The defense tried to rattle me,
asking if I had provoked my father with my "arrogance" about my engagement.
I looked the lawyer straight in the eye,
leaning forward so the light hit my scar.
“I offered them love,”
I said,
my voice echoing in the silent room.
“I offered them a place at my table,
and they chose a brick instead.”
“They didn't just want the money,
they wanted to see me suffer because I reminded them of everything they weren't.”
“They wanted to see if Wyatt would still love me.”
I turned to look at Wyatt,
who was sitting in the front row,
his eyes shining with pride.
“And as you can see,”
I finished,
“he loves me more than ever.”
The judge didn't even need an hour to make her decision.
Bail was denied for Gregory and Brenda Davis,
pending charges of attempted murder,
kidnapping,
and elder abuse.
Melanie was served with an indictment for conspiracy before she could even leave the building.
As they were led away in handcuffs,
my mother finally looked at me,
really looked at me.
The laughter was gone,
replaced by a hollow,
void-like terror.
“Let's see how you like your new face in a prison cell,
May you like
Mom,”
I whispered as she passed by.
