Chapter 112: Chapter 112 Play The Record

Micah’s POV

“Shut your fucking mouth up!” my voice boomed from the audio.

“You fucker! I am so going to have this sex with you, and there is nothing—nothing—no fucking body will fucking do about it!!!” my voice continued, filled with rage and dominance.

“Ahhhhhh!” a lady’s voice rang in the audio, high-pitched and trembling.

“Shut your hell mouth! You wanna tell me you’re not fucking enjoying this?!!!” my voice cut through the recording like a blade, silencing the lady.

I opened my eyes widely in horror.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, making my fingers tremble slightly as I gripped the edge of the table before me. The courtroom was suffocatingly silent, yet the weight of the countless stares boring into me felt heavier than any noise could have been.

I needed no one to tell me I was doomed.

When did this lady make the voice recording?

I struggled to recollect the exact moment. My mind raced, flipping through my memories like pages in a book, but the answer was already known to me.

I remembered.

I remembered the moment I was rping this lady. I remembered it as clearly as I knew the back of my own hand. Through this voice note, it was an occurrence I could not forget, no matter how much I wanted to.

My gaze shifted toward the front of the court, where a cluster of women stood, their expressions a mixture of anger, disgust, and silent triumph. And among them, I saw her.

Daniella.

The moment I set my eyes on her, my stomach clenched. My heart pounded violently against my ribcage.

She was the one.

She was the one with the voice in the audio.

As the realization settled, a wave of murmurs erupted in the courtroom. The tension was thick, suffocating, inescapable. Every single person present turned their attention toward me, their judgmental eyes piercing through my skin like daggers.

Their gazes were relentless—an unbearable mix of disgust, hatred, and self-righteous fury.

“He should be jailed forever or, better still, sentenced to death by hanging!” one of the audience members shouted, their voice filled with unfiltered rage.

The words struck me like a hammer, my breath hitching in my throat.

“Order!” shouted the bailiff, his firm voice booming across the court.

With this, a heavy silence fell upon the courtroom, thick and unyielding.

And then, Attorney David leaned in, his presence looming over me. His smirk—wide and triumphant—spread across his face like an omen of my downfall.

“Didn't you say you don't recognize these ladies?!” he questioned, his tone laced with mockery, each word dripping with sarcasm.

I swallowed hard. My throat felt dry.

“Something tells me that very voice in the audio is indeed yours, as it has such resemblance!”

The words were a death sentence.

My heart pounded furiously at the mention of that word—resemblance.

I didn't know what to do or what to say. Panic clawed at my insides.

I looked at Attorney Deborah.

Her eyes met mine for the briefest moment, but the instant our gazes locked, she turned away. The action was sharp, deliberate, as if my very existence repulsed her.

That was it.

Taking her eyes away from me meant only one thing—she had lost interest in my case.

Attorney David had done his job. He had ripped open the secrets I thought would stay buried forever, exposing me for the monster they all believed I was.

A secret I thought was not necessary to tell Attorney Deborah.

Now, she folded her hands, intertwining her fingers, placing them on the table in a silent declaration that she was done defending me.

“I ask you again, Mr. Micah," David pressed, his voice unwavering. "Did you say you don’t recognize your own voice in the audio?”

“No!” I shot back, the lie tumbling out of my mouth before I could even think. “That voice is not mine! It is altered. These women just want to incriminate me!”

Though I tried to sound convincing, my voice shook, betraying me.

Deep within me, I knew I was lying.

But to the court, I had to fight it, right?

Attorney David let out a loud, mocking laugh. His amusement was clear—he knew I was scrambling for control, and he was enjoying every second of it.

He straightened, stepping away from my stand, his calculated steps leading him toward another of the women standing before the court.

Annabella.

Her name rang in my mind like an echo of a past mistake.

She was another one. Another woman I had lured.

I remembered her.

I had found her in a church on Middletown Street. She had gone there to pray, kneeling humbly at the front of the altar, lost in silent devotion.

And I had been watching her.

Attorney David stopped right in front of her, his expression unreadable.

“Is this man the one you told me about?” he asked her, his voice carrying a weight that filled the entire room.

Annabella didn’t hesitate. She didn’t stutter.

“Yes!” she answered, her voice loud and clear, echoing off the courtroom walls.

My chest tightened.

“Are you with the video recording you said you have?” Attorney David pressed on.

My heart dropped.

A video recording?

I felt my blood turn to ice.

What does he mean by a video recording?

How did she record anything that was happening?!!

“Yes!” she confirmed, her voice unwavering.

At that moment, I knew—whatever little hope I had left was slipping through my fingers.

“Before we show the video to Your Honor, permit me to ask this lady, Annabella Speech, to the stand,” Attorney David said, bowing slightly toward Judge Hilar.

“Granted,” Judge Hilar responded.

And with that one word, my heart pounded faster.

I barely had time to process what was happening before I saw Attorney David collecting a small device from Annabella. He handed it to the bailiff, who took it with careful hands and walked toward the corner of the courtroom.

The room was so silent that even the sound of the device being inserted into the larger screen felt deafening.

The video had not started playing yet, but its mere presence in the courtroom sent a wave of tension rippling through my body.

Attorney David turned back to Annabella.

“Do you swear to tell us nothing but the truth?”

Annabella straightened her posture.

“I swear,” she answered firmly.

David nodded.

“Tell us how you were able to catch Mr. Micah on video record.”

Annabella let out a shaky breath. For a moment, her eyes darkened, and I knew she was recalling that night.

“I was a content creator on YouTube…” she began, her voice steady but laced with emotion.

She recounted every detail. The church, the 360 camera, the drone—things I hadn’t noticed at the time.

And then she described how I had appeared behind her.

How I had smirked at her like a Cheshire cat.

How I had pushed her down onto the cold tiles.

A tear slid down her cheek as she spoke, but she kept her voice steady.

“That’s enough, Ms. Annabella Speech,” Attorney David cut in.

He turned to the bailiff.

“Please play the video.”

Every gaze in the courtroom turned to the large screen.

And when the footage began, every person in that room recoiled in horror.

“This guy is indeed a madman!” someone in the audience cried out.

Even Attorney Deborah averted her gaze.

At that moment, I knew—I was more than doomed.

I was so fucked.