The plaintiff’s lawyer brought forward evidence from the previous trial. As the crowd absorbed each damning piece, anger simmered to a boil.
Online insults swelled into a relentless storm, piercing through any last shred of hope.
Standing alone in the defendant’s seat, with the crowd’s fury bearing down on me, I finally saw through Garrett’s so-called good intentions.
He believed my punishment was too lenient; he’d ensured this trial would leave me ruined beyond redemption.
Just as the courtroom was descending into chaos, Garrett unexpectedly rose, announcing he had proof of my innocence.
Shock rippled through me, my family, and even Eliana. The plaintiff’s lawyer, wearing a smug smile, leaned back, unshaken.
“Oh?” he said smoothly, “And what evidence would that be?”
Garrett signaled for the video to start. The footage, shot from a subtle angle, appeared to be from a surveillance camera in the villa’s living room.
In it, Eliana could be seen warmly tugging me closer, one hand poised in her pocket. In an unexpected move, she stumbled, her head seeming to strike the wall.
But from this perspective, it was unmistakable—Eliana had forcefully slammed a small red pouch against her own forehead, sending a sudden flow of blood down her face.
As the video ended, the courtroom erupted into chaos. Eliana shot to her feet, her voice shaking with anger as she accused, “That video is digitally altered!”
