Saint By Day, Sinner By Night

CHAPTER10

Myles's POV

“...no physical evidence places my client at the scene at the time of death,” the defense said as his voice quivered just a little as he clutched at his final straw. “And while tragic, this does not meet the standard of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.”

There was a pause, and then the judge nodded curtly.

“Mr. Voss.” She said.

I rose, and the courtroom hushed at once.

I took every step to the center deliberately and measured as the Ice King. That’s what they called me on court blogs anyway. Not for the suits or the stare, but because I didn’t flinch when I drew blood.

I turned toward the jury.

“Do you know what Julian Marks did after he slammed Jennifer Caldwell’s skull into the granite kitchen island?” I asked.

I let the words hang for a while before continuing.

“He poured himself a drink.”

I didn’t gesture and I didn’t pace. I didn’t need to because I spoke like the truth was already carved in stone, and I was just dusting it off.

“He didn’t check if she was breathing. He didn’t call 911. He didn’t panic. He didn’t cry. He went upstairs. Changed his shirt. Wiped the blood from his hands. Ordered a car. And then.. he left.”

I turned and locked eyes with Julian, who was accused of murdering his girlfriend. He didn’t blink But his jaw twitched.

“The defense wants you to believe he wasn’t there at the time of death. That’s cute. But death isn’t a magic trick. Jennifer was alive. Then she wasn’t. And the blunt force trauma didn’t come from a ghost. It came from the man who had motive, rage, and a documented history of alcohol-fueled violence.”

I took a step closer to the jury box.

“She confronted him about his wife. About the affair. About being lied to.. again. That was the night she grew tired of being disposable.”

Another step.

“She wanted out. And he didn’t like that. Because Julian Marks doesn’t get left. He gets even.”

I held up the photograph police took of the kitchen and the Blood on white marble, and A half-empty glass of alcohol near the sink, and A shattered phone and the angle of her body.

“Jennifer Caldwell was twenty-seven years old. She died because a powerful man didn’t want his ego bruised. And now he wants you to pretend that all this.. ” I lowered the photo, “..is reasonable doubt.”

One last look at the jury.

“You know what this is. You’ve seen the old text messages. You’ve heard the neighbors. You’ve watched him sit here with the same smug smirk every single day. That isn’t innocence. That’s certain. Certainty that his money would do the talking.”

I lowered my voice to a thin whisper.

“Don’t let it.”

I turned away before I even finished speaking. Because I didn’t need to see their faces. I already knew what they were thinking.

The rest moved like formality, and the jury was out for less than an hour. When they came back, no one looked at Julian. Not even his lawyer.

“Have you reached a verdict?” The judge asked.

A nod. Then a voice: “We find the defendant guilty on all counts.” Foreman of the jury replied.

The gavel struck.

Julian didn’t move. Not at first, but I watched his fingers curl. Finally, the truth caught up with him.

Sentencing was swift, and he was sentenced to life imprisonment and no chance of parole before twenty. The judge didn’t flinch. Neither did I.

***

“Mr Voss.. Mr Voss. How do you feel now that you've finally wrapped up another case successfully?”

“Mr Voss? What would you like to say to the families of the deceased? We heard you took the case without accepting their pay!”

Questions after questions assaulted me the moment I stepped out of the court. I, on the other hand, had no intentions of entertaining the press, and whatever I had to say to Jennifer's parents was none of their business.

It was true that I took the job without pay. The poor parents of that girl had to burst they ass pretty hard just to send her to college and twice as much to afford a lawyer when she was murdered.

It was quite sad that she had to end up with the likes of Julian Marks, politicians who thought they had all the money and could prey on little desperate girls and go scot free.

With the help of my men shielding me from the press, I finally reached my car and got in with a sigh.

“Where are we heading, Boss?” Damian asked from the driver's seat.

“Take me back to the office,” I replied.

“The office?” He looked surprised. “I thought you'd want to rest. I thought you'd…”

“Damian.” I cut him off calmly. “Drive to the office now.”

He knew better than to argue, so he immediately did what I asked. There was no time to kick back and rest. I had work to do, work that needed taking care of.

“This came in for you, Sir.” My secretary, Anna, handed over an envelope.

“From who?” I asked as I took it from her.

“It didn't say.” She replied, eyeing it curiously.

I felt the envelope and it contained a small paper, and what was that? A key?

I tore it open at once and sure enough, a key fell into my hands. I stared at it for a while before picking up the small paper, which had a note written on it;

'You will soon receive what this opens.'

What the f**k was that? I wondered silently as I turned the key over and over in my hand, but that was just about the only information I had concerning that.

We finally arrived at my office, and I immediately headed straight for my office, only to be waylaid by… Serena?! What was she doing here?

“Hey.. What are you…”

SMACK!!

That was the sound of her hand hitting my face in a stinging slap before I could finish…