Hazel's POV
The trial moved faster than anyone expected, partly because the driver's testimony was airtight, partly because Penelope's own financial records did most of the prosecution's work for them. I sat in the gallery every day I could manage between coursework, Julian beside me most mornings, his testimony scheduled for the third week once the older case, the hit-and-run from five years ago, was formally folded into the charges against her. The courtroom itself felt strangely small for something that had reshaped so much of my life, wood paneling and fluorescent light and the low murmur of reporters in the back rows scribbling notes for stories that would never quite capture what any of it had actually cost.
Penelope's lawyers tried everything. They argued diminished capacity, obse
