Chapter 102 Guilty but not Gone

Chapter 102 Guilty but not Gone
The afternoon session brought more witnesses. A forensics expert who explained the burner phone found in Patricia's home. A phone company representative who confirmed the call records between Patricia and Helen.

Each piece of evidence was solid. But each time, Brennan found a way to cast doubt.

The burner phone could have been anyone's.

Phone calls don't prove conspiracy they prove conversation.

Correlation isn't causation.

By the time court adjourned at 5 PM, I felt like we were building a house of cards. Strong from our perspective, but fragile. One strong wind one persuasive argument from Brennan and it could all collapse.

"Tomorrow, 9 AM," Judge Martinez said. "The prosecution will call Emma Wolfe."

The words hung in the air.

Tomorrow.

That evening, I couldn't settle. Couldn't sit still, couldn't focus, couldn't do anything except pace and worry.

"You should rest," Adrian said. "Get a good night's sleep before tomorrow."

"I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see that courtroom. See Patricia watching me. See myself breaking down on the stand."

"You're not going to break down."

"You don't know that."

"No, but I believe in you. And Emma even if you do break down, even if you cry or need a break that doesn't make you less credible. It makes you human."

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"Because it's true." Adrian pulled me onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me. "Emma, you've been preparing for this for weeks. You know what questions are coming. You know how to answer them. You're ready."

"I don't feel ready."

"No one ever does. But you'll get through it." He placed his hand on my stomach. "You and Ethan both. You're stronger than you think."

I wanted to believe him. But all I could think about was tomorrow. About sitting in that witness box, Patricia's eyes on me, Brennan's questions designed to destroy my credibility.

About twelve strangers deciding whether to believe me.

Around 8 PM, Dr. Sandra called.

"I heard you testify tomorrow. How are you feeling?"

"Terrified. Nauseous. Like I might pass out."

"All normal responses. Emma, I want you to remember something: you're not on trial. Patricia is. Your job isn't to be perfect. Your job is to tell what happened to you. That's all."

"What if I freeze? What if I can't get the words out?"

"Then you take a breath. You ask for water. You take your time. The judge knows this is difficult. She'll give you space to compose yourself."

"Brennan's going to make me sound like a liar."

"Let him try. Emma, you have one advantage he can't take away you're telling the truth. And the truth has a weight to it, a consistency that lies don't have. Trust that the jury will feel that."

"What if they don't?"

"Then you'll have done your best. You'll have told your truth. And whatever happens after that you'll survive. Because that's what you do. You survive."

After we hung up, I sat with those words. You survive.

I'd survived my father's death. Survived poverty and desperation. Survived the kidnapping. Survived every terrible thing life had thrown at me.

I could survive tomorrow.

I had to.

That night, I found Lily sitting on the stairs in her pajamas, clearly past bedtime.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing up?"

"I wanted to give you something. For tomorrow." She held out a drawing stick figures of our family, holding hands, smiling. "For good luck. So you remember we're all here for you."

My eyes filled with tears. "Lily, this is perfect. Thank you."

"Are you scared about tomorrow?"

"Very scared."

"Do you want to hear what Miss Rebecca taught me? About being brave when you're scared?"

"Please."

Lily stood up very straight. "You close your eyes. You think about all the people who love you. And then you remember that you're not alone. Even when it feels like you are you're not."

"That's very wise."

"I know." She threw her arms around my waist. "I love you, Mama. And tomorrow, I'm going to think about you all day. And I'm going to send you brave thoughts. Okay?"

"Okay, baby. Thank you."

After tucking Lily in again I went back to my room. Adrian was already in bed, reading trial documents even though he'd probably memorized them by now.

"Lily's drawing is going in my pocket tomorrow," I said, showing him.

"Good. You'll need all the support you can get." He set aside his papers. "Come here."

I climbed into bed beside him. He pulled me close, and we lay there in the dark, not talking, just being together.

"I love you," he said finally. "No matter what happens tomorrow. No matter how the trial goes. I love you, and I'm proud of you, and I will be there every second."

"I love you too."

"Are you ready?"

Was I? Could anyone ever really be ready to face their nightmare in front of a room full of strangers?

"No," I admitted. "But I'm going to do it anyway."

"That's my girl."

We fell asleep tangled together, and for once, I didn't dream of the warehouse. Didn't dream of Patricia or zip ties or the certainty of death.

Instead, I dreamed of Ethan. Of holding him for the first time. Of Adrian beside me, Lily peering over to see her brother, Mom crying happy tears.

I dreamed of after. Of when the trial was over and we could finally move forward.

And when I woke up Thursday morning the day I'd testify that dream felt almost real.

Almost possible.

I held onto it like a lifeline as we drove to the courthouse.

As I walked through the crowds of reporters and cameras.

As I took my seat in the courtroom and waited for my name to be called.

Judge Martinez looked at Lisa Martinez. "Call your next witness."

"The People call Emma Wolfe."

This was it.

I stood on shaking legs and walked toward the witness stand.

Toward the truth I'd been avoiding and the confrontation I'd been dreading.

Toward whatever came next.