Chapter 41: The Trial (Liam POV)

The feds had dragged Nate out of that warehouse, cuffs tight around his wrists, his eyes locked on mine as I’d lunged, shouting, “He’s clear!” It didn’t matter—they took him anyway, leaving me standing there, my chest hollow, my hands shaking. Zoe’s article had hit—Harper and Graham exposed—but it wasn’t enough. Nate was locked up, days stretching into weeks, and I’d promised him, promised myself, I’d fix this. Now, I had my shot.

I sat in the courtroom, my hands sweaty, my tie choking me. The air smelled like old wood and paper, the benches hard beneath me. Nate was sitting up front, no cuffs now, but pale, his face tired, his eyes downcast. My stomach twisted, my breath coming in shallow bursts—he didn’t deserve this, not after everything. The judge stared down from her high seat, her face blank and stern, while the lawyers prepared for the next phase of the trial. My turn was coming—my chance to tell the truth.

“Mr. Ellis,” the prosecutor said, standing up, his voice sharp and demanding. “You’re testifying for Nathan Carter. Tell us what you know.”

I nodded, my throat dry, stepping toward the stand. My legs felt like lead, my hands gripping the rail in front of me. The room fell silent, all eyes on me. I turned to look at Nate, his gaze lifting slowly, meeting mine across the courtroom. My heart skipped a beat, my chest tightening as I saw the pain in his eyes. “Yeah,” I said, my voice low but steadying quickly. “It wasn’t Nate—it was Harper. She framed him.”

The prosecutor tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Harper Morgan? The ZenithTech exec? Go on,” he urged, eager to push the narrative forward.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as my eyes locked onto Nate’s face, his expression still, waiting for me to finish. “I saw the video,” I said, my voice clear and unwavering. “Harper was in the server room—the night of the breach. She stole files, deleted logs, and made it look like Nate did it. The timestamps were 23:49, 23:52. Nate wasn’t there. I was with him, on the other side of the building.”

A low buzz ran through the room, soft and quick, like a ripple of disbelief. The prosecutor paused, his pen hovering in mid-air, his face tightening. “You saw this video?” he asked, his voice hard, almost accusatory. “Where did it come from?”

“Nate got it,” I said, my voice steady, my eyes flicking from him to Nate and back. “Someone sent it to him. It was on a flash drive, marked ‘Her undoing.’ It showed her clearly—plugging in a drive, copying files, wiping logs with Nate’s ID. She set him up, planned it all.”

Nate’s hands clenched on the table, his eyes wide and wet. My throat tightened as I saw the pain in his expression. He was hearing this, feeling the weight of it, and I couldn’t stop now. “She wanted him out—blamed him for the leak,” I said, my voice firm, rising in volume. “But it was her—every move was caught on tape.”

The prosecutor paced, his jaw tight with frustration. “You’re sure about this?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “You testified before—said Carter was alone.”

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling, but I held Nate’s gaze, not wanting to break the connection. “I lied,” I said, my voice low but strong. “Graham—Harper’s dad—he forced me to. He had a blackmail list, fake debts on me. He said he’d ruin my life if I didn’t blame Nate. I thought it would help him, keep him safe. I was wrong.”

The room hummed with murmurs, growing louder now. The judge’s gavel came down hard, silencing the chatter. My heart raced, my breath quickening, but I didn’t look away from Nate. “That video is real,” I said, my voice rising with conviction. “Zoe’s article, the files from Talia—they show Graham’s money, Harper’s manipulation. Nate’s innocent. I saw it happen. I was there.”

The prosecutor froze, his eyes cold, his hands still. “You’re changing your story,” he said flatly. “You’re risking jail. Why now?”

I turned to look at Nate, his chest rising and falling quickly, his eyes locked on mine. His expression was a mixture of shock, relief, and something else I couldn’t name. My hands steadied, my voice rough with the weight of everything. “Because it’s right,” I said, low and sure. “I hurt him—I left him to face this alone. I won’t do that again. He deserves the truth.”

Nate’s face shifted, and in that moment, I saw a flash of something warm and alive in his eyes. My chest ached with the truth of it. He knew now—knew I meant it when I said, “I love you,” even though I couldn’t say it aloud in front of the room. I was risking everything—perjury, Graham’s revenge—but for Nate, I’d do it again.

The prosecutor waved his hand dismissively, his voice clipped and impatient. “No more questions.” Nate’s lawyer jumped up from her seat, her voice quick and sharp. “Liam,” she said, stepping close to me. “Do you swear to this?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice steady, my eyes never leaving Nate. “All of it—every word.”

She nodded sharply, then turned to face the judge. “That’s it, Your Honor,” she said, sitting down quickly. The judge looked at me, her eyes hard, then shifted her gaze to Nate, then across the room, taking in the silence.

“Recess,” she said, her voice cutting through the air, as she banged her gavel down. “Ten minutes—back here.”

The room burst into activity—talking, footsteps, chairs scraping. I stepped down from the stand, my legs shaky, my hands suddenly loose at my sides. Nate’s lawyer grabbed him, whispering into his ear, but his eyes stayed on me, steady and alive. My breath slowed, and I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I walked toward him, the crowd parting in front of me.

He stood, slow, his hands free now, his face worn but soft with something I couldn’t quite place. “Liam,” he said, his voice low, rough with emotion as he stepped close to me. My chest squeezed at the sound of his voice. My hands itched to reach out and touch him. “Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes wet, his voice small but real.

I swallowed, my throat tight with emotion, my hands still at my sides. “I owe you more than this,” I said, my voice quiet, raw with meaning. I couldn’t fix everything, couldn’t erase all the times I’d failed him, all the nights he’d faced this battle alone—but I was here now, and I wasn’t leaving him again.