Chapter 103 Trial Begins
“Isn’t this cheating?” I asked, my brows furrowed as I looked at the picture of Dave in another woman’s arms.
I stared at the picture, trying to see if I would recognize the woman, but no matter how much I looked, the woman's face wasn’t visible.
“Wait, let me see,” Lena said, her eyebrows raised as she took the phone from my hand.
She looked at the picture, zoomed, swiped left and right, then smirked.
“This is photoshopped, girl. Look at Dave’s face here, it’s a bit distorted.”
I glanced at it again and again and that was when I saw the distorted face Lena had pointed out.
“Someone’s trying to mess with you,” she added.
“Oh my God! I could have sworn it was Dave,” I replied, still looking at the picture.
“Whoever this is, they are damn good at photoshopping.”
“Nah… they aren’t. It would be perfect if they were,”
Lena countered.
“Right,” I replied.
“Do you think it’s the same woman?” Lena asked.
“Yeah. I think it’s her,” I sighed.
“If I lay my hands on her once again, I promise she wouldn’t even get to police detention, not to talk of escaping again.”
She hissed.
I didn’t know where I got the confidence from, but I wasn’t scared of her anymore, especially with Lena by my side. In fact, I was waiting for the day she would appear at my doorstep.
ALEX HART’S POV
I couldn’t stop thinking about Joan.
The way she had pulled up in that sleek car, blocking the reporters like a shield, and told me to get in without hesitation.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the surprise in her eyes when she saw me and the quiet concern on her face when we sat in that small coffee shop and I poured everything from my mother’s schemes to how Marcus had stabbed me in the back.
She had listened without judging me, and she only reached across the table to touch my hand for a moment, and that small gesture had felt like the first real kindness I had received in months.
And for a few minutes in that coffee shop, the heavy weight that had been on my chest finally felt a little lighter.
I was grateful… deeply and painfully grateful.
Seeing her again after all this time had cracked something open inside me.
She looked good and strong.
Stronger than what I used to admire in her.
But the moment I got home, the weight returned, heavier than before.
I locked the front door behind me and didn’t open it again for days.
The house felt like a burial place and every room in it reminded me of what I had lost.
I couldn’t eat.
Food sat untouched on the kitchen counter until it spoiled. I drank water when my throat got too dry and took black coffee when I needed to stay awake.
Sleep came in short, restless naps on the couch. Most nights I just sat in the dark, staring at nothing and replaying every mistake of my life.
Where had it all gone wrong?
Was it the night my mother brought Cassandra to my house? Or earlier, when I let Evelyn’s opinions shape my decisions because I was tired of fighting her? Or even before that?
I had trusted the wrong people my whole life.
My mother, who saw me as a tool to protect the family name, and Marcus, who saw me as an obstacle to his own ambition.
And now… I had lost everything.
The board had stripped me of control; new investors ran the company I had built with my sweat. Clients had fled, and my name was in shambles.
I stayed locked inside with my curtains drawn and my phone on silent.
The only messages I answered were from my lawyers updating me on the case against Marcus and Cassandra.
I didn’t know why but Cassandra had said she wasn’t going to testify against Marcus.
Days passed.
Then the hearing came.
I forced myself to shower and put on a clean suit. Then I drove to the courthouse and parked far away so that I wouldn’t have to face cameras again.
The courtroom was packed and the air was filled with unease. I sat on the prosecution side, my hands clasped tightly on my lap so that no one would see them shaking.
Reporters filled the back rows, scribbling in their books quietly. Cameras weren’t allowed inside, but I could feel their eyes on me anyway.
Marcus sat at the defense table, looking calm as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. His lawyer, a sharp silver-haired man named Richard Lang sat beside him.
Marcus didn’t look at me once.
The judge, an older woman with a no-nonsense expression, called the session to order.
“Mr. Lang, you may begin your cross-examination with the forensic accountant.”
Lang stood smoothly.
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
He turned to the witness stand where our forensic accountant, Dr. Patel, sat.
“Dr. Patel, you testified that large sums were transferred from Hart & Associates’ reserve accounts to several shell companies. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Dr. Patel replied.
“And you claim these transfers were authorized using access codes belonging to Mr. Reeds and Mr. Hart?”
“Correct.”
Lang smiled slightly and continued.
“But isn’t it possible that someone else gained access to those credentials? Perhaps through phishing or a compromised device?”
Dr. Patel adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat.
“The logs show that all the transfers came from Mr. Reed's IP address and were carried out during times when only he had remote access.”
“Oh,” Lang nodded.
“During times when Mr. Reeds was working late… something he often did for the company. Isn’t that right, Mr. Hart?” He suddenly turned toward me.
I stiffened but I didn’t reply.
“You don’t have to respond if you don’t wish to, Mr. Hart,” the judge said.
Lang looked away from me and continued again.
“My client has cooperated fully. He provided all passwords and access logs. Yet the prosecution continues to paint him as the mastermind. Where is the direct evidence linking Mr. Reeds to any personal gain from these transfers?”
“Your Honour, we have bank records showing funds moving to accounts controlled by accounts linked to Mr. Reeds,” the prosecutor stood.
Lang laughed softly.
Then he continued his cross-examination for another twenty minutes, poking holes in every piece of evidence.
And when the prosecution brought Cassandra’s involvement up, he painted her as an unstable woman who acted alone because she wanted to be free from poverty.
When it was my turn to speak as the victim, I made it short.
“I trusted Marcus Reeds as my friend and partner,” he said quietly.
“He betrayed that trust. He used Cassandra to get inside my home and company, and I lost control of my firm because of their actions.”
The hearing dragged on for hours.
Lang made me look like a distracted CEO who had lost control of his own company.
By the end, I could see the case weakening.
Then the judge finally spoke.
“This case involves complex financial crimes and requires further investigation, therefore this case has been adjourned until next month to allow both sides to present additional evidence and witnesses.”
“I rise.”
With that, the gavel went down.
Marcus turned his head slightly, and his gaze met mine for the first time. There was no smile on his face but there was this cold confidence that was literally telling me he was winning.
As the courtroom was getting empty, I left quickly before reporters could surround me again.
Back home, I locked the door and sank onto the couch.
I wanted to give up.
Even if Marcus was found guilty and sent to prison, there was no way I was getting my company back because the damage was already done. The new investors had already restructured everything.
I stared at the ceiling in silence, asking myself a question.
What was left?
At that moment, Joan’s face flashed in my mind. I wanted to call her but I didn’t have the right to.
She had moved on.
She had a new life and a new man, so there was no way I could drag her back into my mess.
Now I was alone… all alone by myself in the cold world.
And that made me wonder if I even had the strength to keep fighting.
My phone buzzed on the table.
I ignored it at first, but then it buzzed again.
When I finally picked it up, the message made my heart race.
“Geez…”