Chapter 238
Noah
They made me raise my right hand.
I barely felt it.
“State your name for the record.”
“Noah Blake.”
“Your relationship to the accused?”
My throat tightened. “He’s my father.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
The prosecutor nodded, neutral, patient. “How long have you known the defendant?”
“All my life.”
“And during that time, how would you describe your relationship?”
I swallowed. “Fear-based.”
That word hung there.
“Can you explain that to the jury?”
I stared straight ahead.
“I grew up afraid of him. Of his moods. Of his silence. Of the sound of his footsteps.” My hands trembled, but I didn’t stop. “I learned very young how to read a room. How to disappear. How not to provoke.”
“Did he ever hurt you?”
“Yes.”
Gasps.
“In what ways?”
“Physically. Verbally. Emotionally.” My voice cracked. I forced it steady. “He controlled everything—money, movement, who we spoke to. He punished failure. He punished weakness. He punished independence.”
“Were you afraid of him as an adult?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he never stopped believing he owned me.”
The prosecutor let that settle before continuing.
“Did the defendant ever threaten you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever blackmail you?”
“Yes.”
That one landed harder.
“And did those threats escalate over time?”
“Yes. Especially after I started succeeding at football.”
“Can you explain what you mean by that?”
I closed my eyes for half a second. Then opened them.
“When I started getting recognition—football, awards, attention—he saw me as leverage. As something to use. If I didn’t comply, he threatened my family. My future. My safety.”
“Was there a point when you feared for your life?”
“Yes.”
The room was so quiet I could hear my own breathing.
The prosecutor nodded. “No further questions.”
Relief didn’t come.
Because then he stood.
My father’s lawyer spoke first, but it didn’t matter. I knew what was coming.
My father looked at me like he always had—like I was a puzzle he’d built and broken a hundred times.
“Son,” he said softly. “I never knew you felt that way.”
My jaw clenched.
“I pushed you,” he continued, voice full of regret and righteousness. “Because I believed in you. Because I wanted you to be the best. Look where you are now. You’re a rising star. You didn’t get there by accident.”
Objection.
Overruled.
“I was hard on you because the world is hard,” he said. “Because I loved you.”
I laughed.
It slipped out before I could stop it.
“Did you love me when you came demanding money?” I asked. “When you threatened my family? When you forced me into silence? When you stalk me, hit the car you thought I was in, showed up at my wedding day to—”
Objection.
Sustained.
My father shook his head sadly. “You know why I did that.”
“Because you wanted revenge,” I said clearly.
His eyes flashed.
“From him, yes. You were being blackmailed,” he snapped. “By William Hart.”
The courtroom exploded.
Objection. Objection. Objection.
The judge slammed the gavel.
“Order!”
My father leaned forward, pointing at me now, mask slipping. “You were being destroyed by that man. He forced you into that marriage. He threatened you. I couldn’t let him hurt you anymore.”
“That’s why you tried to kill me?” I asked.
“That’s why I stopped him,” he shouted. “I did it for you.”
The jury stared. Frozen.
“You should tell them the truth,” he pressed. “Tell them who you really love. Tell them why you were marrying Lexie. Tell them what you were hiding.”
My hands shook.
But I didn’t look away.
“No,” I said. “You didn’t do it for me.”
Silence.
“You did it because you couldn’t stand losing control.” My voice was steady now. “And you’ll never admit that. Not even now.”
The judge called a recess.
As they led him away, my father twisted back toward me one last time.
“I did it for you,” he said again.
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t need to.
I barely made it into the bathroom before my hands started shaking.
Aiden was there instantly, locking the door behind him, pulling me into his chest before I could even say a word.
“It’s okay, love,” he murmured, arms wrapped tight around me. “I’ve got you.”
I clutched his shirt, breath coming too fast. “I can’t go back in there. I can’t do this again.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “You can, love. You already are. For your family. For everyone he hurt. For you.”
His thumbs brushed my cheeks, steady, sure. “You’re doing so good, baby boy…. I love you so much.”
God, I loved him so much too… I don’t know what on earth I would’ve done without him by my side. Just then, I realized how lucky I was to have a man like him loving me the way he did, and if the world didn’t wanna get that, they could all go to hell.
When I stepped back into the courtroom, every eye turned toward me.
The air felt thicker somehow. Heavier. Like the room itself was holding its breath.
I barely had time to sit before Lexie was there.
She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t look unsure. She crossed the aisle and pulled me into a hug so tight it knocked the air out of my lungs.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered fiercely. “You did amazing.”
I swallowed hard. “Lex—”
She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. “Listen to me. Whatever anyone says here—whatever he tries—we’ll face it together. I won’t let anyone twist our story. I promise.”
Something in my chest loosened.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
She squeezed my hand once more before returning to her seat, chin lifted, unbreakable.
The judge called the room to order.
My father was brought back in. He didn’t look at me this time.
The defense attorney rose slowly, adjusting his cufflinks as if he had all the time in the world.
“Mr. Blake,” he said smoothly, “your father has testified that William Hart was blackmailing you. Is that correct?”
I inhaled through my nose.
“Yes,” I said. “That is what my father claims.”
A murmur rippled through the courtroom.
“And was William Hart, in fact, blackmailing you?”
“Yes.”
My mother’s breath caught behind me.
“But not in the way my father wants this court to believe,” I added calmly, before he could redirect me. “William Hart used his power to control my future—my career, my family’s safety. He exploited leverage. He did not force my father to act.”
The defense attorney tilted his head. “So you were under threat.”
“I was under pressure,” I corrected. “That does not justify murder.”
He took a step closer. “And that pressure was related to your personal life, was it not?”
My lawyer was on his feet instantly. “Objection.”
“Grounds?” the judge asked.
“Relevance. Speculation. And an attempt to prejudice the jury.”
The judge didn’t even pause. “Sustained.”
The defense tried again, voice tightening. “Mr. Blake, isn’t it true that William Hart was threatening to disclose your secret relationship—”
“This court will not entertain questions about the witness’s personal relationships,” the judge cut in sharply. “Move on.”
My father shifted in his seat.
For the first time, the performance slipped.
The defense attorney swallowed and regrouped. “No further questions.”
The prosecutor stood, steady and direct.
“Mr. Blake,” he said to me, “one final question.”
I turned toward him.
“Did anything William Hart did force your father to bring a firearm into a church and kill a man?”
“No,” I answered. “Nothing my father did can be justified at all.”
No hesitation. No doubt.
“Thank you. No further questions.”
“You, ungrateful brat—”
My father surged to his feet as a guard rushed toward him. “I should’ve done you instead! Rid the world of a useless queer like you!”
The room erupted. The judge shouted for order. Guards dragged him away, still spitting venom.
My hands were shaking when I stepped down. Not because I was scared—but because my body was finally letting go of years it had spent braced for him.
He screamed, but the words he hurled at me echoed once—then fell flat.
Aiden was there instantly, his hand finding mine like it always had.
“You did it,” he murmured. “You had survived this.”
I squeezed his fingers back.
My father stared straight ahead now. And for the first time in my life, he had nothing left to take from me.
I straightened my shoulders.
I had survived this. Oh, God—I had survived him… I had loved despite him.
And he would never touch my life again.