The High Tribunal sat beneath a glass dome, light pouring in from every direction, as if the sky itself demanded clarity.
Caroline walked the center aisle slowly, flanked by guards. Not because she was on trial—but because she was delivering the truth.
Mason sat on the defense bench, hands shackled, face pale. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something hollow. His father sat behind him, stone-faced, as if he too knew the dynasty had already crumbled.
Caroline reached the speaker's podium.
The lead judge—an elder with a silver braid and the weight of decades in his stare—nodded. “You may begin, Miss Taylor."
She spoke calmly.
“Three months ago, I woke up in a hospital with no memory of the man who claimed to love me. What I've remembered since then has revealed more than a failed
