Still… Vanessa strutted into court that morning dressed as if victory had personally chosen her outfit.
“You should’ve settled,” she said smugly, folding her arms. “Blake says once the judge sees how confused you are, you’ll be lucky not to lose everything.”
Beside her, Blake chuckled softly.
“Ms. Arden,” he said smoothly, “the legal system can feel overwhelming for people without training.”
I smiled quietly.
That clearly irritated him.
Blake mistook my silence for ignorance because I never corrected every false accusation line by line.
I did not respond emotionally.
I did not call Vanessa crying.
I did not beg anyone to stop.
I simply filed my responses carefully, saved every threatening letter, and allowed Blake Monroe to keep decorating his own trap with official letterhead.
The bailiff finally opened the courtroom doors.
