Let them try.
If those bastards thought that they’d take me out without consequences, then they had something else coming. It didn’t matter the outcome of the trial; I would certainly get out of jail at some point. And when I did, I would have my revenge on everyone who was behind this.
I would find Blair and make her pay for her betrayal, then take my child from her. But for now, let the judge and jury decide my fate.
***
The day of the hearing arrived quicker than expected. The courtroom was filled with whispers, quiet hostility, and unspoken tension. Murmurs rose from the crowd as I walked in, bound by the cuffs on my wrists.
Two huge guards flanked both my sides—not to protect me, but to protect the crowd from me.
My boots pounded against the floorboards as I waltzed in with my head held up high, my self-esteem still very muchintact. At the back wall, I spotted a group of reporters with their pens and notepads, eager to witness the downfall of the Mafia kingpin, Nikolai Tarasov.
Once the hearing began, the prosecutor, a tall woman in her late fifties, rose from her chair. She stepped in front of the court, laying out the charges, dragging my name through the filth.
“Your Honor,” she said, “we’re dealing with a monster who partnered with Richard Kane to build an organization whose sole purpose was kidnapping young girls.”
“Objection, Your Honor.” Colton rose from his chair.
“Overruled,” the judge said, casually dismissing him.
The prosecutor continued, “Evidence places Mr. Tarasov at the center of the trafficking ring where he locked up those innocent girls. Mr. Tarasov is a liar and a fraud who built his business on the exploitation of weak, vulnerable girls.” She paused, letting the words sink in.
I clenched my jaw to control my anger. It would’ve been better if I were here because of a crime I actually committed. This was a low blow, even for me.
“Men like him shouldn’t be allowed to freely walk the streets of our beloved city. Not after funding and profiting off of human misery,” she ended her case.
The courtroom fell silent.
Colton adjusted his tie and rose to his feet. “Your Honor, my client is being falsely accused,” he began. “His business is legitimate, and there is no evidence whatsoever linking him to Kane’s traffic ring.”
At this point, I stopped listening. It didn’t matter how good Colton was; these people were determined to bury me, and they would do anything to make sure I didn’t escape the “wrath” of the law.
As the argument between Colton and the prosecutor began to escalate, the judge’s voice caught my attention when he said, “Enough. Bring the witness to the stand.”
Witness?
The sound of her heels clicking on the floor echoed in my head as she walked toward the stand, accompanied by a bailiff.
I rose when I saw her—Blair Blake.
She was the witness called to bury me, like she hadn’t done enough already. Her eyes flicked toward me for a fleeting moment before she faced the court. She was dressed in an impeccably tailored black blazer, her soft brown curls cascading down her shoulders.
This was the first time I had seen her since the arrest, and I couldn’t help the emotion swelling inside me. A mix of hatred, anger, and affection.
Blair swore the oath to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. I noticed how her stormy green-gray eyes were duller than before and how her hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
She avoided my gaze, but I refused to take my eyes off her. I wanted her to look at me while she lied to the judge and the court.
In my whole life, no one’s betrayal had ever cut deeper than hers. I hoped she was proud of herself, the good job she’d done.
“State your name for the record,” said the prosecutor.
She cleared her throat and leaned closer to the microphone. “Blair Blake.”
“Just to be clear, you’re one of the trafficked girls, correct?”
“That’s correct,” she answered, her voice soft but steady.
