Rhea didn’t deny it.
Izzy Moreno
Izzy’s palms were damp against the paper cup of water.
Rhea closed the door, setting her folio on the table. “Last run-through,” she said. “You know your truth better than anyone in that room. Stay with me. If they rattle you, find my voice, not theirs.”
Izzy nodded, trying for calm. “And if he looks at me?”
“You look past him,” Rhea said. “He can’t touch you here. The only weapon he has left is your fear.”
Izzy swallowed hard. “Then he’s unarmed.”
Rhea smiled faintly. “That’s the spirit.”
She handed Izzy a small stone from her pocket—a river pebble, worn smooth. “From the Tuckasegee. Hold it if your hands shake. Ground yourself.”
Izzy closed her fingers around it. “You carry rocks to court?”
“Only the lucky ones,” Rhea said. “Now breathe. We’ll win the parts that matter.”
Rhea Lancaster
The courtroom buzzed with anticipation. Izzy sat stiff-backed at the prosecution table, nerves frayed after days of preparation. She had repeated her story until her voice was hoarse—practiced meeting Rhea’s gaze and no one else’s, practiced speaking evenly even when the memory threatened to split her open.
Evan was brought in. His hair was combed, his jumpsuit exchanged for a county-issued shirt and pants. He looked ordinary.Tooordinary.
The judge was about to call the first witness when Evan leaned close to his public defender. Tense words slipped between them. Papers shuffled.
Rhea watched, eyes narrowing. She’d seen that kind of whisper before—defendants losing their nerve once the jury could see their face. Her gut tightened.Of course. It was folding time.
A beat of silence settled over the courtroom, everyone sensing the shift before it was spoken.
“Your Honor,” defense counsel said suddenly, rising. “The defendant wishes to change his plea.”
A wave of sound broke across the gallery.
Izzy’s mind was whirling. For days, she had steeled herself to speak, to face him, to tell the truth out loud. The cliff—the cracks in the rock, the seconds of the fall—she carried them like a weight in her chest. The memory of the sky tilting above her was the one that haunted most, and she had been ready to lay it bare.
All those nights she’d rehearsed the words, and now they’d die unheard.I was ready. I needed to say it.
And now, just like that, it was over? No testimony? No facing him?
Relief hit hard—but so did rage. He could silence her and still walk away with less than he’d earned. She gripped Caitlin’s hand. The world blurred until she blinked it back into focus—she would not let him steal her voice in silence.
“Guilty,” the lawyer said, “on Assault with a Deadly Weapon with Intent to Kill, Inflicting Serious Injury, and Accessory After the Fact—as negotiated with the District Attorney’s office.”
The judge raised his brows. “And Attempted First-Degree Murder?”
“Dismissed under the plea agreement,” the DA confirmed, lips tight.
The gavel cracked. “So entered. Sentencing is set for tomorrow at nine a.m.”
Rhea checked her calendar and exhaled. “Tomorrow,” she murmured. “Day before Thanksgiving.”
Burke said quietly, “Justice never checks the calendar.”
Evan was led out, head low, smirk gone. Izzy sagged in her seat, tears spilling freely.
