Nicole inhaled slowly, grounding herself.Today was more than just another case.It was therapy, reckoning, and a retribution of her own.
Twenty years ago, that could have been me.
She pressed her hands flat, and the belief echoed underneath her skin.If she’d gotten pregnant that night, would Tripp have reacted the way she believed Bianca’s boyfriend had?The man came from a wealthy family, and they’d done everything they could to make it appear that Bianca had more than one man in her life.
But it had all been lies.Nicole had found no one.Only some disturbing texts from the man she believed killed her, upset that she had gotten pregnant.Begging her to get an abortion.More texts from the killer’s mother.Upset that she’d trapped her son.
It seemed like an echo from her past.But she wasn’t going to let them win.Nicole would defend this girl’s life like it was her own.
Across the aisle sat Dustin “Tripp” Masterson, calm.Precise.Controlled.He adjusted his cufflinks the way he used to brush wisps of hair from her shoulder.The steel in his eyes she recognized from when he played high school football.He was here to win, but so was she.
They were no longer lovers.They were adversaries.And yet…the memories of their younger lives filled her.She could have been Bianca.He could have been Reddick.
Nicole squared her shoulders.This trial belonged to Bianca now.But ten thousand miles of emotion made every breath personal.
“State of Texas versus Derrick Reddick,” the bailiff announced, voice rolling across polished benches.“All rise.”
The courtroom exhaled as Judge Carlton Price entered, robes swaying, aura commanding.He surveyed everyone with calm authority.
“Be seated,” he said simply.His voice was quiet but full, homely, firm.“We convene the trial ofState v.Reddick.Counsel, please state your appearances.”
Nicole inhaled, lifted her chin.She would win this trial.
Nicole rose then.“Nicole Reyes, for the prosecution.”
Their eyes met, an electric collision.Lightning and ice.Everything that had been buried: pain, regret, resentment, past love.It was all right there.
The words tasted like iron and hope.
Tripp stood across the aisle.
“Dustin Masterson, Defense.”
Lightning lanced her chest.She blinked, pushing away memories.
No, she whispered in her mind.This is not about us.This is about Bianca.
Jennifer and Paige, her friends in the gallery, were watching.She gave them a subtle nod.
She began voir dire with a professional edge, crisp, probing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, do any of you know the defendant or the victim, Bianca Laurent?Have you read media accounts?”
Each juror offered a nod or shake of the head.Their expressions were open, eyes earnest, maybe even anxious.
She explained herself:
“Bianca Laurent wasn’t just a victim.She was a law student, someone once full of promise.She was a plaintiff; yesterday, you could have been her.”
She glimpsed Tripp’s gaze flicker, sharp.Skewed.He watched her, questioning whether this was case preparation or confession.
She inhaled again.In the prosecution’s binder rested Bianca’s acceptance letter to law school—Nicole’s dream, too, once.She gently fingered it, breathing courage.
When it was time, Nicole's voice rose before the jury.
“Members of the jury, Bianca Laurent was bright, courageous, and full of dreams, dreams much like some of yours.She anticipated law school; she was planning a life she believed in.”
She paused, heart hammering.
