Chapter 249 Homecoming
The next day, Monday morning, the living room of the Blackwood estate had been transformed into a makeshift courtroom satellite.
A large flat-screen monitor sat on a low console table, webcam positioned perfectly. The camera angle was tight: just the cream sofa in frame, soft daylight from the windows behind it, no clutter visible. Everything else, the Christmas tree still twinkling in the corner, Daisy’s toys scattered near the fireplace, Donald’s medical equipment pushed to the far wall stayed carefully out of shot.
Damon finished adjusting the webcam one last time, then turned to the small crowd gathered.
“Everyone except Genesis, sit far back. Out of frame. No interruptions. No sounds. If the judge or prosecutor asks who else is present, we say no one. Clear?”
Revelation nodded from the armchair she’d dragged to the far corner. Jaden sat beside Rosie on the loveseat near the window, both silent. Donald was in his wheelchair at the opposite end, leg still bandaged but color back in his face, the aggressive Angel-and-devil treatment protocol had shrunk the tumors faster than anyone expected. He was almost stable enough to walk again. Daisy curled in his lap, clutching her stuffed bunny, eyes wide but quiet.
Melissa, Genesis’s tutor sat beside Donald, notebook in hand like moral support. She’d come over yesterday to check on Genesis and ended up staying hours, confessing her own nightmare: a nasty, divorce from a cheating husband who’d drained their joint accounts. Genesis had held her while she cried, then whispered, “You will win this too.” Melissa had left lighter and insisted on being here today.
Genesis sat alone on the sofa in frame, pale gray cashmere sweater, hair in a loose bun, hands folded protectively over her bump.
Damon gave her one last look.
“You good?”
She exhaled shakily. “No. But I’m ready.”
He nodded once.
The screen flickered to life.
The courtroom appeared, federal district court, Southern District of New York. Wooden benches, American flag, the judge’s bench elevated and imposing. Monica sat at the defense table in a plain navy dress, hair pulled back, face gaunt. Her lawyer, Elias Grant beside her, papers stacked neatly.
The prosecution table was empty for now; the AUSA would appear via video link too.
The judge — Hon. Elena Ramirez adjusted her glasses.
“Ms. Caldwell-Blackwood, can you hear and see us clearly?”
Genesis swallowed. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Very well. We are proceeding with remote testimony due to documented medical necessity. You are still under oath. Do you understand the penalties for perjury?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded to the prosecution table. “The United States may begin.”
An Assistant U.S. The attorney, a woman in her late thirties, dark suit, calm voice appeared on a split screen.
“Ms. Caldwell-Blackwood, for the record, please state your full name and current residence.”
“Genesis Caldwell-Blackwood. I reside at the Blackwood estate in…” She gave the address.
“Thank you. Ms. Caldwell-Blackwood, I’m going to ask you about your childhood relationship with the defendant, Monica Caldwell. Starting from when your father passed away. Can you tell us, in your own words, what happened after the car accident that killed your father?”
Genesis’s hands tightened in her lap.
She took a breath.
And began.
The words came slowly at first, halting, quiet but they came.
She spoke of the crash. The hospital. Coming home to Monica’s cold face. The toys taken away. The screams: “You killed him. If you hadn’t cried for ice cream, he’d still be alive.” The command never to speak again.
She spoke of the locked rooms. The missed meals. The nights she cried into her pillow so no one would hear. The beatings, the assault from her stepbrothers and their friends.
She spoke of the doctor’s office.
The way she always woke up feeling… wrong. Empty. Sick.
She spoke of Monica’s signature on every form.
Of the lies Monica told the world… “She’s studying abroad.”
Of the years she spent mute because she believed her own voice could kill.
She didn’t remember the hospital visits clearly.
But she remembered everything else.
And that was enough.
The courtroom was silent except for the soft scratch of the court reporter’s keys.
Monica stared straight ahead, face blank, eyes glassy.
When Genesis finished, her voice was hoarse.
The AUSA spoke gently.
“Thank you, Ms. Caldwell-Blackwood. No further questions at this time.”
The judge looked at defense counsel.
“Mr. Elias?”
Elias grant rose slowly.
He cleared his throat.
“No questions, Your Honor.”
The judge blinked.
Genesis exhaled, a shaky, trembling breath.
The judge’s voice softened.
“Thank you for your testimony, Ms. Caldwell-Blackwood. You are excused. We will recess for fifteen minutes.”
The screen went dark.
Genesis dropped her head into her hands.
Revelation was beside her in an instant, arms around her shoulders.
“You did it,” she whispered. “You fucking did it.”
Genesis was crying again, quiet, exhausted tears.
“I don’t even remember the worst parts,” she whispered. “And I still feel like I’m breaking.”
Revelation pressed a kiss to her temple.
“You’re not breaking. You’re healing.”
Kieran’s voice came from the doorway, rough, still weak from the hospital bed he’d bullied his way out of.
“You’re the strongest person I know.”
Genesis looked up.
He stood there, leaning on the frame, hospital bracelet still on his wrist, eyes burning with pride and something deeper.
She stood up slowly, carefully and walked to him.
He opened his arms.
She stepped into them.
And for the first time in days, the weight on her chest felt a little lighter.
The trial wasn’t over.
But her part was.
Or so she thought.