The courtroom was colder than Christina expected.
Hard benches. Bright lights. Reporters in every row.
Randell Carlisle sat in a navy suit, wrists bare but aura shackled. His lawyers flanked him like ornamental guards—too polished, too late.
The judge entered. The room rose.
And the trial began.
---
Fraud. Coercion. Imprisonment. Conspiracy.
Each charge was read with steady cadence, each denial met with evidence.
The ledgers. The offshore accounts. The surveillance logs. The locked room beneath the mansion.
And testimony.
So many testimonies.
Including hers.
---
Christina stepped up to the witness box. Not trembling. Not smiling.
Just... clear.
The prosecutor asked, “Can you describe what it felt like inside that room?"
She paused.
“No windows. No exits. No silence that wa
