Chapter 37

I turned to Hadrian, confusion swirling in my mind. Could he truly prove the signature on the contract had been forged? I couldn't see another way to win this battle. In a human court, an expert would have been called to determine the authenticity of my signature. But here, the outcome depended entirely on the beliefs of the Night Council. I doubted they’d side with me. But what about the Lord Protector? He surely held authority, though his exact position in the vampire hierarchy remained a mystery to me.

Still, evidence was essential to expose the Vexleys' deceit.

Hadrian caught my gaze, his expression unreadable until he smirked—a self-assured, almost infuriating smirk that hinted he had a plan. Without a word, he stood, clutching the pile of documents he’d meticulously examined before the trial began. From that stack, he retrieved a specific document and handed it to me.

“Do you recognize this?” he asked, his voice dripping with cunning amusement.

I looked at the paper and gasped.

In my hands was the original work contract I had signed to work as a waiter at the casino’s special event.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice shaky but certain.

Hadrian's smirk widened. “Then why don’t you explain it to everyone?”

“This… this is the document I signed at the casino,” I said, my words coming faster as agitation seeped into my tone. “It’s the real work contract that I and the others signed.”

Across the room, I caught Mr. Orin blanching. The Vexleys’ jaws tightened as they glared daggers at their lawyer, silently demanding he fix this disaster. Hadrian, as calm and composed as ever, turned to the judges before facing me again.

“And do you recognize the signature on the contract?” he pressed.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “This is my real signature.”

In a blur of movement too fast for me to fully process, Hadrian appeared beside Mr. Orin, snatching the forged contract from his trembling hands.

“I’ll be borrowing this,” he said with a wicked chuckle.

Mr. Orin’s mouth opened in protest, but the words never came. He was too slow—Hadrian’s speed was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Holding both the forged and original contracts, Hadrian strode to the center of the courtroom, raising them for all to see.

“Now,” he began, his voice commanding, “consider this: Which is more plausible? That Ms. Drayton signed a contract to work as a waitress? Or that she suddenly decided to sell herself as a blood slave?”

The room erupted into murmurs and agitated whispers. Hadrian flipped both contracts to their signature pages and held them up again.

“Think carefully,” he continued, his tone sharp. “Why does Ms. Drayton’s signature appear identical on both documents? Isn’t it a little too perfect for a human hand?”

Mr. Orin cleared his throat, his gaze darting around the room like a desperate student caught without an answer. The Vexleys, meanwhile, seethed with fury. Their anger radiated so strongly it felt like it could splinter the table before them. Without Hadrian’s intervention, I was certain they would have killed me then and there to vent their boiling rage.

“Lord Protector Kessler,” the lead judge interjected, her tone laced with sarcasm, “do you have concrete proof of forgery, or are you leaving it to the jury and council to figure out?”

“I’m glad you asked, Your Honor,” Hadrian replied, his smirk returning. He gestured toward Mr. Larkspur.

Gareth Larkspur left the courtroom briefly and returned dragging a shackled, gagged man. Bloodied and bruised, the man was shoved unceremoniously onto the floor. Gasps rippled through the chamber.

Warden Vexley shot to his feet, his fist trembling with rage.

Hadrian’s glare silenced him, cold and cutting.

“I believe Warden Vexley recognizes his associate, Zorin Oakenfield,” Hadrian said mockingly. “I’d apologize for his condition, but unfortunately, he wasn’t as cooperative as we’d hoped… at first.”

The Vexleys exchanged frantic glances, while Mr. Orin scrambled to confer with them. The courtroom’s din only grew louder.

“Lord Protector Kessler,” the lead judge called out over the noise, her voice calm but commanding, “who is this man, and why is he here?”

Hadrian’s eyes flicked to Mr. Larkspur, who yanked Zorin upright by the collar of his torn shirt.

“Speak!” Larkspur barked.

Zorin stammered, his voice trembling. “I… I work for Warden Vexley. H-he told me to f-forge signatures.”

The room exploded into outrage. Members of the Night Council openly expressed their disbelief and fury.

“This is a lie!” Warden Vexley roared, his composure unraveling. “I never ordered him to do such a thing!”

The lead judge’s eyes narrowed. Her smirk was razor-sharp. “Bring him to me,” she commanded, her finger pointing at Zorin.

The Warden paled, his mouth snapping shut. His hands trembled as his sons exchanged panicked glances. Mr. Larkspur dragged Zorin before the judges. The lead judge leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of Zorin’s head.

Zorin’s body stiffened, his face contorting in pain. A strangled moan escaped his lips as his eyes rolled back, the whites overtaking them. Moments later, his body went limp, collapsing to the floor.

The judge straightened, her expression neutral. “He was telling the truth,” she announced. “He was led to the Warden’s study and given pre-prepared contracts, along with photographs of each signature he was ordered to forge. The photographs were stored on Arlen Vexley’s phone.”

The courtroom fell into stunned silence as Mr. Larkspur moved with inhuman speed, snatching a phone from Arlen Vexley’s grasp.

“Give it back!” Arlen roared, his voice cracking with fury. “How dare you!”

Mr. Larkspur scoffed and handed the phone to Hadrian, who needed only a moment to find the pictures of the signatures. A low chuckle escaped him.

“Oh, dear Warden, your son is truly a fool,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “He didn’t even bother to hide the traces of his forgery. I should thank him for making this so easy.”

With a malicious grin, Hadrian passed the phone to the judges. The lead judge studied the screen before distributing it among her colleagues. Judge Zephyr grimaced, his discomfort evident as his gaze flicked toward the defendants. Though he was clearly their ally on the panel, even he couldn’t deny the damning evidence against the Vexleys.

“We, the Judges, confirm that these photographs reveal signatures forged for no purpose other than falsification,” the lead judge declared, her voice resonating through the chamber and igniting an uproar among the members of the Night Council.

Hadrian turned toward me, a triumphant smirk on his lips. Relief surged through me, so powerful I nearly wept, but I held my composure. This battle wasn’t over until the final verdict was announced. As Hadrian and Mr. Orin returned to their seats, Mr. Larkspur motioned for me to remain at the witness stand, though I couldn’t fathom why.

The lead judge took a deep breath, her voice sharp as a blade as she proclaimed, “For conducting illegal auctions, profiting from forbidden activities, and deceiving the Night Council, the Vexley family shall be stripped of their titles. Their estates will be confiscated, and the Red Ruby Casino will be placed under the management of the House of Kessler. I call for a vote.”

I glanced around the room, watching as the council members nodded in agreement. The verdict seemed inevitable.

“All those in favor, raise your hands,” the judge commanded. Her voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

Hands rose across the room, including those of the lead judge and two others. My chest tightened as the reality sank in. A tear slipped down my cheek—not out of joy, but out of a bittersweet recognition that this was as close to justice as we might get. The Vexleys wouldn’t face the full weight of what they deserved, but perhaps this punishment would suffice.

“And those opposed?” she continued.

Judge Zephyr’s hand shot up immediately, followed by Lord Protector Ashcroft and a small handful of others. Their opposition was feeble, a whisper against the roaring tide of guilt. I chuckled softly, but it was a hollow sound. This wasn’t the kind of victory I’d envisioned. If life had taught me anything, it was that true justice demanded an eye for an eye. Nothing could bring Amara back, but those who treated human lives so carelessly deserved no leniency. If not death, then a punishment cruel enough to last an eternity.

“The Night Council has reached its verdict, and the decision is final,” the lead judge stated with solemn authority. Then, her tone shifted, carrying a note of irony as she addressed Hadrian. “Is Lord Protector Kessler satisfied with this outcome?”

“Not quite yet,” he replied, his words laced with wicked amusement as he stood from his seat.

A ripple of shock swept through the room. The Vexleys looked utterly defeated, and Hadrian’s statement was a cruel blow to an already broken family. But pity was the last thing I felt for them.

“And what punishment would satisfy the Lord Protector?” the judge asked, arching a brow.

Hadrian’s gaze burned as he met the eyes of the judges. “Allow me to present further evidence of the Vexleys’ crimes. Afterward, I request another vote.”

He paused, his smirk widening into something more menacing. “And then, I want them sentenced to death.”