The men jolted in panic, scrambling away without a backward glance, leaving me crumpled and shaking beneath the bridge.
The courtroom buzzed with tension on the second day of the trial; not a single seat was left empty. Reporters, with official permission, began live-streaming, and within minutes, the case surged to the top of the trending charts.
Comments flew in by the millions, with countless viewers showing fierce support for Eliana, rallying for justice to be served.
Across the internet, everyone seemed poised for the climax, awaiting the declaration of my guilt.
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.