I stood when I was asked to.
The judge—a woman with a stern face and silver braids wrapped tightly behind her head—looked straight at me.
“You are the complainant?” she asked.
I nodded quickly.
“Speak clearly, young lady.”
“Yes, my lord,” I said, my voice shaking a little.
Then Lucian’s lawyer stood. Tall, polished, with a calm expression that irritated me more than his words.
“We plead not guilty to all charges. These accusations are emotionally motivated and lack substantial evidence,” he said, folding his hands like he just solved a riddle.
I clenched my fists. I wanted to slap him.
I turned and looked at Lucian again.
Still no guilt. No remorse. He sat like he was at a business meeting. Legs crossed, back straight, lips barely moving.
Barrister Kuti remained composed.
“My l
