The front door opened, and David and Susan entered, their faces tight with worry. Sadie walked in behind them, her movements hesitant. She looked small. Fragile. Like she might shatter if someone touched her too hard.Susan immediately went to Simon, pulling him into a hug.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I’m okay, Mom,” Simon said, though his voice cracked slightly.
David looked at me, his expression unreadable. “What happened in there, Tony?”
Susan released Simon and moved to the kitchen, her hands already reaching for the coffee pot. “I’ll make coffee,” she said, her voice brisk. “We all need it.”
Simon caught my eye, and despite everything, a small smile tugged at his lips.
Told you.
I almost smiled back.
Almost.
The sound of another vehicle pulling up drew my attention. I moved to the window and saw Keys’ motorcycle in thedriveway. The door opened and closed softly. He looked in my direction and I nodded, then his eyes found Sadie. Something crossed over his face, something I didn’t want to think about.
David stepped forward, his voice gentle. “Sadie, sweetheart, come sit down.”
Sadie nodded and moved to the couch, sitting on the edge like she might bolt at any second. Keys followed, sitting in the chair closest to her, his eyes tracking her every movement.
Sadie didn’t look at him; instead, she stared at the floor.
Simon sat beside her, close but not touching. “Sadie,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
She nodded but didn’t speak.
Susan returned from the kitchen with a tray of coffee mugs, setting them on the coffee table. “Here,” she said, handing one to Sadie.
Sadie took it with trembling hands but didn’t drink.
David sat in the other chair, his eyes moving between Sadie and me. “Tony,” he said. “What happened?”
I took a breath and moved to stand near the fireplace, where I could see everyone. Simon sat on the couch beside Sadie. David and Susan sat across from them. Keys remained in the chair closest to Sadie, his posture tense, his eyes never leaving her.
“The recording changes everything,” I said.
My voice was steady. Professional. Like I was presenting closing arguments instead of watching my entire world shift beneath my feet.
“It proves that Sadie killed Alan Sanders in self-defense. It shows Alan attacking her, choking her, threatening her life. It shows her defending herself. And it proves Simon wasn’t there.”
Simon had known. He’d known Sadie had killed Alan. He’d seen her covered in blood, seen the knife, seen the body. And he’d made a choice in that moment, a choice to protect her at any cost.
Even when the cost was his own life.
“So Simon’s free?” Susan asked, her voice breaking.
“Almost,” I said. “We still have to get through the rest of the trial. Rosalind will fight this. She’ll argue that the recording was doctored, or that Sadie planned it and that Simon was complicit. But the jury won’t believe her. Not after they see that footage. Not after they heard the testimonies we’ve already presented.”
I kept talking. Explaining the legal strategy, the timeline, the likely outcomes. My brain functioned on autopilot, years of courtroom experience carrying me through.
But underneath, I was drowning in anger.
Simon had been willing to destroy himself. Completely. Unconditionally. For his love of his sister.
And I couldn’t even hold his hand in public.
