Across the room, Jared exhaled slowly, guilt tightening in his chest. He had let things get out of hand, trying to protect her by keeping secrets and keeping her at a distance. In his determination to shield her, he’d left room for others to twist the truth. Now, they were interpreting her simple devotion as sothing sordid. This was his fault—if only he’d resisted his jealousy that day, stayed out of the records room. She wouldn’t have been implicated, dragged into this absurdity. His hand clenched tighter, a silent apology in his gaze as he watched her face the judge’s disdain.
Jerica t the judge’s gaze, her anger now at full force. "Did you subpoena here to assassinate my character? What is the actual purpose of this?" she demanded, her voice steady but laced with contempt.
Prosecutor Shrier, unfazed, responded coolly. "Mr. Petrovski accessed several records far beyond his clearance level. And we have reason to believe he may have been using you to achieve his goals."
Her mouth dropped open slightly, and she let out a disbelieving laugh. The absurdity of the accusation struck her, even as her anger continued to build. Her gaze darted to Jared, her mind racing as mories surfaced—yes, she’d noticed him take the Glover file that day without her express permission.
A pang of betrayal lanced through her as she realized he had indeed been using her access.
But seeing Jared’s bowed head, she paused, feeling a conflict she couldn’t fully articulate. He looked almost defeated, as though he was accepting the weight of all this as his due. And, despite everything, a small part of her still softened at the sight.
But that wasn’t going to stop her from speaking her mind. She turned back to Shrier, her voice crisp with sarcasm. "I am a public records clerk," she said pointedly. "Every record in that room is public record, which ans there is no such thing as ’clearance levels’ in my domain."
The judge shifted uncomfortably, clearly displeased with her boldness, but she wasn’t about to stop.
"And, to be perfectly clear," she added, turning to address the judge directly, "you subpoenaed here over this nonsense? If you’re really so curious about what happened, let tell you: we weren’t ’wrestling,’ if that’s what you’re implying."
Jerica said that looking straight at the judge. He no longer could look at her and bowed his head as if he was wiping his glasses. An angry smirk ford on his lips a few seconds later.
The silence that followed was thick, charged with a combination of shock and suppressed laughter. A few spectators struggled to hide their grins, and even Shrier looked montarily thrown off balance. But she didn’t care—she’d had enough of their twisted assumptions.
The judge cleared his throat, his smirk now replaced by a tight-lipped frown. "Mrs. Evans, I would advise you to show so respect."
"Respect?" Jerica repeated, her eyes blazing. "I’ll show respect when it’s earned, Your Honor. I ca here expecting justice, not character assassination. And if you want the truth, shall I speak the whole truth? About affairs and whatnot?"
The judge cleared his throat, averting his eyes once again. He couldn’t face her and his face turned red out of embarrassnt and anger. Jerica didn’t care. If that man dared to go against her husband, she’d drag that man’s entire career down with him.
Jared looked at her, his chest tight with a strange mix of pride, vengeance, and regret. This was the woman he loved—unyielding, fierce in her beliefs, not afraid to call out injustice when she saw it. And he hated that it was his actions, his secrecy, that had dragged her into this ss.
But Jerica wasn’t done. "If this is all the prosecution has against Mr. Petrovski, then this entire case is as flimsy as your assumptions about our relationship." She stood up, her defiance a silent warning to anyone else who dared question her integrity.
With that, she t Jared’s gaze one final ti, her anger softening for just a second before she turned to leave, every step a silent, powerful rebuke to the courtroom that had tried to sha her.
-----
Jerica sat on the couch, her back rigid and her arms crossed in defiance, her expression locked in a simring fury. She felt it boiling under her skin, but it was more than just anger toward the judge.
It was Jared—her husband, the man who had sworn to stand by her. He had put her in that position, left her unprepared, and then left her to fend off those insinuations of infidelity.
She couldn’t let go of the smirks she’d seen on those n’s faces. If they’d only known Jared was her husband...would they have dared? Her anger burned hotter, stoking her desire to make Jared see the consequences of his secrecy.
Her gaze darted around the room, landing on a piece of paper on the table—the paper she’d found in Jared’s study. That had been no "innocent glance," either. She had gone looking, combing through his things, hoping to make sense of the secrets he seed to guard so fiercely. Each minute of his concealnt felt like a fresh slap in the face.
It wasn’t that she cared about what he’d done with that information or even the investigation itself; it was that he had done it behind her back, using her in ways she hadn’t even realized.
All he had to do was ask, and she would’ve helped him willingly. Instead, he’d chosen deceit, thinking she’d be none the wiser. She tightened her jaw, feeling the injustice of it build in her chest.
As she sat there, waiting for him to co ho and face her wrath, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, her heart giving a hopeful leap before plumting in disappointnt.
It wasn’t Jared. It was so unknown number.
She ignored it, folding her arms tighter, refusing to let anything distract her from the confrontation she was steeling herself for. She was already not good at confronting. She had to train her heart and mind for this confrontation. It had all gone so out of her hand, she needed so control back in her life.
She had co ho straight after court, hoping he would follow suit, expecting that he’d recognize the damage he’d done. But he was not there yet.
The phone buzzed again, the sa unknown number flashing on the screen.
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