Simon’s eyes widened. “But Sadie—”
“Sadie made her choice, Simon, the same way you did when you confessed to Alan’s murder. She’s protecting you.” I said. “And you’re going to fucking let her.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Matlock
I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white.
“But Rosalind—”
“Rosalind is going to argue that Sadie orchestrated this,” I said. “That she planned it, and that the recording is a manipulation. But the jury won’t buy it. Not after they see that footage. Not after they heard Savannah Reed’s testimony about Alan’s pattern of abuse.”
I kept my tone even. Controlled. Like my chest wasn’t caving in.
Six years. Six years of touching him in the dark, of claiming him in secret, of pretending I had the right to possess him while refusing to acknowledge him in daylight. Six years of taking everything he offered and giving him nothing but shame in return.
Simon had been willing to go to prison.
I couldn’t risk my reputation.
The comparison made me sick.
Simon closed his eyes, his breath shuddering. “So it’s over?”
“Almost,” I said. “We still have to get through closing arguments. We still have to wait for the verdict. But, Simon—”
I reached over and gripped his hand, squeezing hard. Feeling the warmth of his skin, the strength in his fingers.
“The jury is going to acquit you.”
His eyes opened, and for the first time in weeks, I saw something like hope flicker there.
“Okay,” he whispered.
I released his hand and got out of the SUV. Simon followed, and we walked to the front door together.
Inside, the house was quiet. Empty. Simon’s parents hadn’t arrived yet.
“I’ll make coffee,” Simon said, his voice steadier now.
“Your mom will want to do that,” I said.
He gave me a faint smile. “You’re probably right.”
We stood in the kitchen, the silence stretching between us. I wanted to pull him into my arms, to kiss him, to tell him everything I’d been too afraid to say for six years.
But I didn’t.
Because I was still a coward.
The sound of tires on gravel broke the moment. Simon moved to the window and looked out.
“They’re here,” he said.
I nodded and straightened my jacket, slipping back into the role of lawyer. Professional. Detached.
Fucking coward.
