Page 27 of His Verdict
I walk back out into the living room, my new leather heels making a soft, authoritative click on the hardwood floor. Jasper is at my small dining table now, setting down two plates of food. He looks up as I approach, and his eyes sweep over me, from head to toe. A flicker of something hot and proprietary flashes in his gaze.
I stop in front of him, my hands on my hips. “This is too much,” I say, the words feeling inadequate.
He shrugs, completely unconcerned. He picks up a fork. “It fits, doesn’t it?” he says, then takes a bite of his eggs. He chews thoughtfully before continuing. “And we can’t take it back. I had the delivery guy throw away the receipt and cut the tags off before he brought it up.”
He’s blocked every escape route. He’s anticipated every argument. He is always ten steps ahead.
“Eat,” he says, gesturing to the plate he set for me. It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command.
I sit. I glance at him and notice for the first time that he, too, is wearing a new outfit. A perfectly tailored charcoal suit, acrisp silver tie. He didn’t wear this here last night. The delivery must have been for both of us. The irritation is a low hum beneath my skin, a constant reminder of how thoroughly I am being managed.
But then I take a bite of the eggs. They are perfect. The yolks are runny, the whites are firm, and they’re seasoned with something I can’t quite place. The bacon is crispy without being burnt. It’s the most delicious breakfast I have eaten in years.
An hour later, we are standing in front of Judge Harrison.
The courtroom feels like a stage set for a play I’ve seen before, but this time, all the actors have been given new roles. I am no longer the disgraced pariah. I am a calm, impeccably dressed lawyer, standing beside her client.
ADA Brown is at the prosecutor's table, her face a thundercloud.
“Your Honor,” she begins, her voice tight with suppressed fury, “the state moves to dismiss all charges against the defendant, Mr. Jasper Wolfe.”
Judge Harrison looks down from his bench, his expression one of deep, undisguised annoyance. “On what grounds, Ms. Brown?”
“The state’s key witness, our whistleblower from within Meridian Technologies, has formally recanted his testimony, Your Honor,” Brown says through gritted teeth. “He now claimshis original statement was made under duress and is completely baseless. Without his testimony, the state’s case is… no longer viable.”
Of course. The whistleblower. Another loose end Jasper has neatly tied up and disposed of.
Judge Harrison sighs, the sound of a man who knows he is being played but is powerless to stop it. “Very well. Motion granted. All charges against Mr. Wolfe are dismissed with prejudice.” He bangs the gavel, a sharp, angry crack. “We are adjourned.”
As we turn to leave, ADA Brown stalks over to me. Her eyes are blazing.
“This is an absolute farce,” she hisses, her voice low so only I can hear. “I don’t know how you did it, Sutton. I called the Bar this morning to confirm. It’s like it never happened. One minute you’re under investigation, the next you’re untouchable and my entire case evaporates. What the hell did you do?”
I meet her gaze, my own expression a blank mask I did not know I was capable of wearing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, ADA Brown,” I say, my voice cool and even.
I turn and walk away, Jasper a silent, powerful presence at my side. I can feel her staring after me, her fury and confusion radiating like heat.
We walk out of the courthouse and into the bright, cold light of day. For the first time in over a week, I am not scurrying. I am not hiding. I am walking with my head held high. It feels strange, like a beautiful, terrible lie.
A black town car is waiting for us at the curb, the engine humming. Jasper’s driver holds the door open.
“We’re not done,” Jasper says as I slide onto the plush leather seat. “We’re going to the office. There’s paperwork to sign.”
He gets in beside me, and the door closes, sealing us in a cocoon of tinted glass and wealthy silence. My old life is officially over.
Chapter 12
The ride in the town car is silent. Not a peaceful silence, but a heavy, charged one, thick with unspoken things. I stare out the tinted window at the city passing by, the familiar streets looking alien and distant. The woman who walked those streets a week ago—broke, idealistic, and free—is gone. In her place is this stranger in a ridiculously expensive dress, sitting beside a man who just dismantled the justice system for his own convenience as casually as one might order lunch.
The victory in the courtroom feels hollow. A cheat. There is no brilliant legal maneuvering, no satisfaction in a fight well fought. There is only the cold, brute force of Jasper’s influence, a force that bent reality to his will. ADA Brown’s furious, confused face is seared into my memory. She played by the rules and lost. I broke every rule imaginable and was rewarded with a clean slate. It’s the most profound, sickening lesson I have ever learned.
The car slows, gliding to a stop before a skyscraper that makes Sapphire Heights look modest. This is a different kind of power. Not the residential fortress of a king, but the public monument of an emperor. The building is a blade of black glass and gleaming chrome, so tall it seems to scrape the underbelly of the clouds. The name “WOLFE GLOBAL” is etched in massive, minimalist silver letters above the entrance. Not a holding company. An empire.
The driver opens the door for Jasper, then for me. I step out onto the granite plaza, my new heels clicking with anauthority I don't feel. People in sharp business attire move in and out of the building with a brisk, ant-like purpose. None of them make eye contact. They just move, a river of ambition flowing around the unmovable rock of Jasper Wolfe.
He places a hand on the small of my back, a light but firm pressure that’s both a proprietary claim and a guide. The touch sends a familiar, unwanted shiver through me. He leads me through the revolving doors into a lobby that is less a room and more a cathedral to commerce. The ceilings are four stories high, the floors a sea of polished black marble, and a massive, abstract sculpture that probably costs more than my entire law school education dominates the center of the space. The air is cool, quiet, and smells of money.
We don't stop at a security desk. We walk straight to a private elevator, where a guard in a crisp uniform simply nods as Jasper approaches, pressing the call button for him.