Chapter 8

　　The courtroom was thick with tension as Theo's lawyer and the state attorney went back and forth, dissecting every shred of evidence. The state lawyer did all he could to prove the murder was a result of diminished capacity, while Theo's lawyer leaned harder on proving my innocence altogether.

　　The judge listened in silence; her expression unreadable. She couldn't afford to be swayed by pity or personal feelings. If that were the case, then Jennifer's mother's tearful testimony alone would have sealed my fate.

　　Jennifer's mother had wept on the stand, pointing a trembling finger at me and pleading for justice—demanding I be locked away forever. Strangely, I didn't feel angry. Not even a little.

　　The way she spoke—the grief in her eyes, the sorrow in her voice—I couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like if my mother had loved me that much. Maybe things would've been different. Maybe I wouldn't even be here.

　　Christine took the stand next. After answering a series of questions from both lawyers, she was asked to give her final statement.

　　"My friend and patient, Angel, suffered severe domestic abuse at the hands of her ex-husband, Richard Angelo, for three long years," she began. "Three horrible years. She was beaten into unconsciousness, insulted, and discarded like garbage—replaced by the woman who is now deceased. For the next four years, Angel lived with severe PTSD. Nightmares haunted her, memories clung to her like shadows she couldn't escape. She turned to drugs… and nearly ended her life more than once."

　　Tears welled in Christine's eyes as she continued. "There were so many moments she told me she was tired—tired of being alone, tired of running from memories, tired of being afraid of someone who wasn't even in her life anymore. But somehow, she found the strength to fight. Not just with my help, but through her own willpower. And just when she was starting to rebuild her life… another billionaire came along and shattered everything again."

　　My eyes blurred with tears as I stared at her. How long had I known this woman? When had she become such a constant presence in my life? A flash of Jennifer's face surfaced in my mind—before everything fell apart.

　　Christine's voice cracked. "I'm sorry, Angel. I was the one who encouraged you to give Harold a chance. I convinced you he'd be different. I even pushed you to go to that party with him. I don't have the words to explain how guilty I feel. I only hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

　　She stepped down from the stand, her face streaked with tears, and returned to her seat.

　　Then came Harold.

　　He walked up solemnly, his eyes flickering toward me. He raised his hand, swore the oath, and the questioning began.

　　"Mr. Washington, what is your relationship with the accused?" the prosecutor asked.

　　"We met outside a café in Queens. We bumped into each other, exchanged numbers, and went on two dates before… the night of the incident," Harold replied.

　　"Were you two in a romantic relationship before that night?"

　　"No. I was planning to ask her out officially that night. But then I discovered she had lied about who she really was. I stormed out and spent the rest of the evening in my limo. I didn't even know Angel had been arrested until Theo told me the next day."

　　"What do you mean by 'she lied about who she really was'?" the prosecutor pressed.

　　Harold's gaze flicked toward me and then dropped. "She told me about an abusive husband and said she was going through therapy. I didn't know the man she was referring to was Richard Angelo—or that the family she said had abandoned her was the Ramirez family. When I found out, I felt betrayed. So I left."

　　"Let's rewind. You worked with Richard Angelo for a number of years, correct?"

　　"Yes, I did," Harold answered.

　　"And I assume you were aware of why he was imprisoned for the last four years?"

　　"I knew the basics. He was accused of domestic abuse by his ex-wife, his assets were split, and he was sentenced. That's all."

　　"Did you or did you not know his ex-wife's name was Angel Ramirez?"

　　Harold shifted uneasily. "What does this have to do with anything?"

　　"Just answer the question, Mr. Washington," the judge said firmly.

　　"…I did. I knew his ex-wife's name was Angel Ramirez. But I didn't know what she looked like."

　　The prosecutor tilted his head. "So, Angel Ramirez—your date—tells you she suffered abuse and divorced her husband four years ago. You, a bright and resourceful man, somehow didn't connect her to the highly publicized case of Richard Angelo? Even though you'd worked with him? Despite her full name matching his ex-wife's?"

　　Harold's jaw clenched. "I didn't know. That wasn't my intention. I never meant to hurt her."

　　"You knew Angel had a history of trauma and was diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, as per her therapist's report. Yet, you brought her to a party with people who humiliated her and triggered her trauma all over again," the prosecutor concluded.

　　Murmurs rippled through the courtroom. The judge slammed her gavel. "Order!"

　　"No. That's not what happened," Harold stammered, eyes glassy. "I didn't know—"

　　Tears streamed down my face as I met his gaze. The moments we'd shared flooded my memory—moments I thought were real. But now, all I could see was betrayal.

　　"That's all, Your Honor," the prosecutor said, returning to his seat.

　　"Defense, would you like to cross-examine the witness?" the judge asked.

　　"No, Your Honor. He's already said enough," Theo's lawyer replied. "We'd like to call Richard Angelo to the stand."

　　The judge nodded. "Richard Angelo."

　　Richard stood, slowly exhaling a breath that seemed to come from the depths of his chest. He didn't look at me—not once—but my eyes were locked on him. I didn't know what he or Theo had planned, but I was bracing for the worst.

　　He took the oath. The questioning began.

　　"Mr. Angelo, can you walk us through what happened the night of the incident?"

　　"When I saw Angel at the party, I was stunned. I didn't say anything at first. But her family began berating her—cruel, harsh things—and I could see she was barely holding it together. Still, she stayed calm. That didn't surprise me. Angel's always been… peaceful. Respectable."

　　I blinked, confused. Was Richard really saying this? Or was I hallucinating again?

　　"You realize that contradicts everything you've said about her—both four years ago and recently on social media," the lawyer said.

　　Richard gave a small, bitter smile. "Those statements were made out of spite. I was angry she put me in prison."

　　My jaw nearly hit the floor.

　　"I thought she had left the party. But later, I saw her in the crowd behind Jennifer. I threw more insults, just to hurt her. I wanted to pile on to her humiliation. That's when she… snapped."

　　My heart thudded.

　　"She wasn't herself anymore. It was like a demon had taken over her body. She lost control."

　　"You believe in demons, Mr. Angelo?" the lawyer asked dryly.

　　A ripple of laughter passed through the room.

　　"I'm just saying… she wasn't in her right mind. When she came at me, I panicked and…"

　　The courtroom fell silent.

　　"…And what?" the lawyer prompted.

　　"I… pulled my fiancée—Jennifer—I grabbed her hand and pulled her in front of me to shield myself."

　　The courtroom erupted in gasps.