CHAPTER 9: THE TRIAL
The trial was a circus.
Every media outlet in the city was there, cameras flashing, reporters shouting. James and Vivian sat in the defendant's box, their faces cold and emotionless.
I sat in the witness box, dressed in a simple black dress, the folder of evidence in my hands.
"Mrs. Wakefield," the prosecutor began, "can you tell the court what happened on the night of the attack?"
"I was at the estate, trying to retrieve evidence of my brother's crimes. My sister-in-law, Vivian, attacked me. She had a gun. I was able to disarm her with the help of Detective Olson."
"And the evidence?"
"I found it in my father's safe. It proves that James and Vivian had been stealing from the family trust for years. It proves they killed my father."
The courtroom erupted in murmurs.
The prosecutor held up the folder.
"I would like to enter Exhibit A into evidence."
James's lawyer objected, but the judge overruled him.
The evidence was presented.
And everything unraveled for James and Vivian.
Account statements. Emails. Letters. Confessions.
It was all there.
The jury took less than three hours to reach a verdict.
Guilty.
Both of them.
James was sentenced to life without parole.
Vivian got twenty-five years.
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I sat in the courtroom, watching them be led away.
And for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe.
