The courtroom fell silent the moment Victor Hale laughed at me. It wasn’t a nervous laugh or a moment of discomfort—it was the confident laugh of a man who believed he was untouchable. Sitting comfortably in his expensive suit, he looked toward the judge with a smile that suggested the outcome was already decided.
“Your Honor,” Victor said smoothly, “let’s stop pretending. She didn’t build my restaurant. She moved boxes, cleaned floors, and followed instructions. She was nothing more than a pack mule.”
His attorney smirked, and behind him, his new girlfriend Melissa struggled to hide her amusement. The sight might have broken me years ago, but now I simply watched. Every insult felt familiar. Every word reminded me of the life I had spent helping him build.
As Victor continued speaking, I felt twenty years of memories rushing back—years he was determined to erase with a few careless sentences-
