“Or…” he continued, his voice tightening, “tell me the truth about my sister’s death, and I’ll drop everything.”
I turned slightly to glance at Arianne.
Then I took a deep breath. “You’ll find out eventually.”
A flicker of hope lit his eyes.
“But not now.”
My shoulders stiffened. His face darkened, eyes burning red.
“What’s your relationship with that murderer? You’d rather go to prison than turn him in?”
“I’ve told you already, Alaric. I have nothing to do with him.”
He was trembling with rage now, so furious he could barely form words.
He ground his teeth and nodded slowly.
“You really think I won’t sue you?”
I didn’t reply.
He shoved me aside and stormed out.
Three days later, I received a court summons.
When I pleaded guilty, Arianne arched a brow, clearly unsurprised—like she’d known it would end this way all along.
Only Alaric’s face was pale and terrifyingly grim.
He had hired one of the city’s top attorneys. The lawyer dissected every moment of the incident, stretched the legal jargon to its limits, and twisted my silence into malice.
In the end, they raised the sentence to eight years.
Alaric visited me in custody.