Chapter 80: Chapter 81

CHAPTER 081: The Trial ~Julie~~

It’s the afternoon of the trial, and I don’t know wh I’m nervous.

This is what I’ve wanted for weeks now, to be out of this cage. Hell, I’ve dreamed about it. To be free. To leave. Ryan and his web of lies and manipulation behind. To go wherever I want, with whomever I want, without looking god of fucking–shit–up is probably over my shoulder. But as I get closer, my heart pounds harder. I feel like the lurking around the corner, sharpening his mission today is simple: don’t let that lurking around the corner, sharpening his claws, w happen.

,waiting to pounce, M..

That’s why I’m putting on my best ‘confident‘ outfit. A tailored black suit. My makeup is flawless, my lips painted in the same defiant red as the blouse underneath the suit. My hair is pulled into a sleek bun, tight enough to make my scalp scream but exactly the kind of control I need right now. I look like I’m going to war.

And I am.

I take a deep breath, but it does little to calm the storm brewing inside me. I adjust my collar, smoothing it down. Confidence isn’t just about what you feel; it’s about what you show.

As I head toward the courthouse steps, a strange sensation creeps up my spine. Someone’s watching me.

I stop. Slowly, I turn my head, scanning the street behind me. There’s nothing unusual–just pedestrians bundled up in scarves and coats, moving along with their lives. A man with a dog. A woman balancing too many shopping bags. A teenager staring at their phone.

I shake my head. Paranoia. It’s just nerves.

But the feeling doesn’t leave.

I force my feet to move again, taking the courthouse steps two at a time. With every step, I push that gnawing feeling deeper into the pit of my stomach. When I reach the doors, I glance back one more time. Still nothing. Just cold air and shadows.

“Get it together, Julie,” I whisper under my breath, pulling the heavy door open and stepping inside.

On getting to the courtroom, it’s quieter than I expected. I can hear the faint hum of distant conversations, the sharp clicks of heels against marble, the rustle of legal documents being shuffled by indifferent hands.

I spot Ryan almost immediately.

He’s sitting at the front of the courtroom, his lawyer whispering something in his ear. He looks like he always does–polished, perfect, every hair in place.

Maya, my lawyer, spots me and stands. She waves me over with a tight–lipped smile. Maya is no–nonsense, all business, and exactly what I need right now. Her sharp eyes miss nothing.

I sit down beside her, my fingers clenched around the handle of my bag.

“You okay?” Maya asks, her voice low but steady.

“Fine.” I force a smile. “Just ready to get this over with.”

She nods, flipping through her notes. “Stay calm. Stick to the facts. We’ve got this.”

The courtroom doors creak open again, and a bailiff steps inside. “All rise for the Honorable Judge Harper.” Everyone stands. My knees feel like jelly, but I manage to stay upright. Judge Harper, an older woman with stern eyes and silver hair pinned in a severe bun, takes her seat.

“You may be seated,” she says.

As I sit, I catch Ryan glancing at me. His eyes linger a second too long.

I don’t look away. Neither does he.

The trial begins.

“Mr. Roth,” Judge Harper addresses Ryan’s lawyer, “you may proceed with your opening statement.”

Ryan’s lawyer stands. His name is Andrew Roth. He’s everything you’d expect from a high–priced lawyer–slicked -back hair, a voice like honeyed poison, and the kind of smile that makes you want to punch him.

“Your Honor,” Roth begins, “we are here today to present overwhelming evidence that Mrs. Julie O’Brien has not only committed adultery but has also engaged in acts of emotional manipulation and abuse against my client.”

I hear Maya sigh beside me. Roth’s voice drones on, listing off accusations as if he’s reading a grocery list. ” Desertion Defamation. Cruelty. Each of these charges carries weight, and we believe the evidence will speak for itself.”

When he finishes, Maya stands. “Your Honor, my client, Mrs. O’Brien, will show that not only are these accusations baseless but that Mr. Ryan O’Brien has engaged in a long pattern of infidelity and emotional abuse. We will also provide direct evidence of his adulterous behavior through a video recording.”

Ryan’s jaw tightens. Good.

“Proceed,” Judge Harper says.

Maya takes me through direct examination first. Her questions are clear, concise. I answer each one with a calm, steady voice, even when my heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest.

“Mrs. O’Brien, can you describe the emotional impact your husband’s infidelity had on you?”

“Devastating,” I say. “I trusted him. I built my life around him. Finding out about his betrayal was like having the ground ripped out from under me.”

“And the video evidence you provided—how did you obtain it?”

“I received it from a mutual acquaintance. It clearly shows Mr. O’Brien engaging in an intimate relationship with his secretary, Emily.”

Roth objects, but Judge Harper overrules him. The video is played.

The courtroom is silent except for the sound of Ryan’s voice on the recording. His voice is unmistakable, the context undeniable. My fingers dig into my palm as I watch his face tighten with each passing second.

When the video ends, Roth is visibly flustered. He clears his throat, eyes narrowing on me.

“Mrs. O’Brien,” Roth begins, “let’s discuss this so–called ‘video evidence.“”

Maya shoots me a reassuring glance, and I nod. I’m ready for this.

Roth adjusts his tie, stepping closer to the witness stand. “You testified that you obtained this video from a mutual acquaintance, correct?”

Yes.”

“Care to name this mutual acquaintance?”

Maya rises instantly. “Objection. Relevance.”

Roth turns to Judge Harper, his hands spread wide in a theatrical plea. “Your Honor, I’m simply trying to establish the credibility of this so–called evidence. The source matters.”

Judge Harper’s gaze is cold and steady. “Overruled. Proceed, Mr. Roth.”

He smirks. “Mrs. O’Brien, who provided you with this video?”

I take a deep breath. “A mutual acquaintance. I’m not at liberty to disclose their name.”

“Convenient,” Roth says. He paces the floor. “So, let me get this straight: you’re asking this court to believe that a random person handed you incriminating evidence, and you just accepted it without question?”

“I verified the authenticity.”

“And how exactly did you do that? Are you a tech expert now?”

Maya rises again. “Objection. Badgering.”

“Overruled,” Judge Harper says, but her eyes flick to Roth, a silent warning.

“I’m not a tech expert,” I admit, holding my ground. “But I know my husband’s voice. I know his face. And I know the woman in that video is his secretary.”

“Ah, yes, Emily. The secretary. Let’s talk about her, shall we?” He flips through his papers dramatically. “Isn’t it true, Mrs. O’Brien, that there was a point in your marriage when you agreed to an open relationship?”