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Chapter 326 Self-incrimination
Ella
The golden chandeliers of the courtroom seemed to dim as Judge Milton beckoned Mr. Westbrook and
me to his private chambers.
The anticipation was suffocating, every step echoing with a gravity that felt overwhelming. The
grandeur of the courtroom gave way to the more intimate confines of Judge Milton’s chambers a room
steeped in history, with dark wooden panels, shelves lined with leather- bound books, and a
magnificent mahogany desk that seemed to have seen centuries of justice dispensed from behind it.
As the door closed behind us, Westbrook wasted no time. “She’s a filthy little liar, Your Honor!” he spat,
pointing an accusing finger in my direction. The venom in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, but I
wasn’t going to let him see that.
Judge Milton, always the embodiment of authority, didn’t look up from his desk. “You will refrain from
making personal attacks in my chambers,” he said calmly, though the warning was unmistakable.
Gathering my composure, I met Westbrook’s fiery gaze. “Your Honor,” I began, “I’ve only presented the
evidence as I found it.”
Judge Milton finally looked up, locking eyes with me. “Miss Morgan, your evidence, while unexpected,
is legally admissible. Officer Daniels’ track record will need to be looked into. But as it stands, you have
provided this court with solid evidence that cannot be ignored.”
Westbrook’s face turned a dangerous shade of crimson. “This is preposterous!” he shouted, slamming
his fist on the desk.
The judge, however, didn’t flinch. “That’s enough, Mr. Westbrook. The facts speak for themselves. This
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtconversation is over.” With a gesture towards the door, he made it clear we were both dismissed.
As we walked out of the chambers, I could feel Westbrook’s rage emanating from him. The air in the
corridor was cooler than inside the chamber, but the atmosphere was thick with tension.
Suddenly, he closed the gap between us, his hulking frame towering over me. “You think you’re clever,
don’t you?” he hissed, so close that I could see the veins pulsating on his temple. “Playing the damsel
in distress, trying to bring down the big bad wolf?”
I stepped back, refusing to let him intimidate me. “I don’t play games, Mr. Westbrook.”
He leaned in, his breath stale and his voice dripping with menace. “You’re just a little princess who
decided to play in a world she doesn’t belong to. Why don’t you head back to your fancy penthouse
and leave the dirty work to us professionals?”
He paused, letting his threat hang in the air between us. “Or, better yet,” he sneered, “get the hell out of
town. Or I might just have to send someone to give you a proper send-off.”
It was a threat, plain and simple. The corridor felt smaller, the weight of his words pressing against me.
But I wasn’t about to be pushed around. Holding my chin up high, I met his icy glare with determination.
“Send them,” I replied defiantly. “I’ll be waiting.”
For a moment, he seemed taken aback. Then, with a mocking laugh, he walked away, his footsteps
echoing in the silent corridor.
My heart raced as I watched him leave. I knew this was just the beginning of a larger battle, one that
would test my resolve and my ability to stand up against giants like Westbrook. But if today had proven
anything, it was that I wasn’t one to back down.
Clicking off the recorder in my pocket, I whirled around on my heel and hid my smile.
The courtroom was awhirl with whispered conversations, the dull hum interrupted only by the
occasional cough or shuffle of feet. The grandiose room, with its high ceilings and echoing space, was
a testament to the weight of justice it carried.
The majestic chandeliers shimmered with a subdued light as I made my way back to my seat. Logan
gave me a supportive squeeze on the shoulder, the silent reassurance warming me.
Before I could settle in, Judge Milton’s voice echoed, cutting through the hum. “Miss Morgan, please
step up to the podium.”
I felt a flurry of eyes turn to me as I took a deep breath and approached. The weight of Westbrook’s
threat still hung heavy on my mind, but it was time to unveil the final trump card I held. Westbrook had
dug his own grave; oh, how the mighty fall so easily.
“Your Honor,” I began, my voice surprisingly steady. “Before we proceed, there’s something you need
to know.” I hesitated for a beat, gathering my thoughts. “Mr. Westbrook threatened me in the hallway.”
Westbrook’s face contorted into a sneer. “Lies!” he snapped. “More of her theatrics, Your Honor. Do not
be swayed.”
Ignoring him, I continued, “Fortunately, I recorded our conversation.” With a flourish, I pulled out my
recorder, pressing play before anyone could interrupt.
The courtroom echoed with Westbrook’s voice, the words chillingly clear. “…get the hell out of town. Or
I might just have to send someone to give you a proper send-off.”
A stunned silence enveloped the room. Westbrook’s face had turned a sickly shade of pale, his earlier
bravado replaced by dawning horror. Judge Milton’s voice was ice-cold, the anger palpable. “Bailiff!”
Instantly, the stern-faced bailiff approached, his heavy footsteps resonating with authority. “Your Honor,”
Westbrook spluttered, a hint of desperation in his tone, “this isn’t what it looks like!”
But Judge Milton was having none of it. “Mr. Westbrook, not only have you been accused of evidence
tampering, but now you’re threatening an opposing lawyer within the confines of my courtroom. This
case is over.” His voice rose with vehemence, echoing around the courtroom. “For contempt of court,
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmboth you and your client will be taken into custody.”
Eyes wide, Westbrook tried to protest, but words seemed to fail him. His client, seated next to him,
looked equally horrified, the realization of their predicament dawning on him.
Without further ado, the bailiff slapped handcuffs on both of them. As they were led out of the
courtroom, I could barely hold back my smile. Westbrook shot me one last venomous look, but the
triumphant feeling surging within me made his glares insignificant..
Logan, unable to contain his joy, reached out and gave me a high-five.
“We did it, Ella,” he exclaimed. Exiting the courthouse, the golden light of the late afternoon sun bathed
the stone steps. I took a moment to breathe in the fresh air, the weight of the day slowly lifting off my
shoulders.
But before I could process it all, Logan’s strong arms encircled me, pulling me into a tight embrace.
And then, suddenly, his lips found mine, and for a moment, the world faded away.
I could feel our wolves intertwining, their energies melding into one. It was a connection, both spiritual
and primal, something I’d never felt before. Suddenly, I was transported back to the night that we met…
before I knew who he was and what he stood for.
“Mate,” Ema said, unable to contain herself. “I’ve been waiting, despite everything…”
Ema’s words almost made me relax further into Logan’s arms. But as reality crept back in, I gently
pushed him away, my face aflame, and pushed my wolf back into the recesses of my mind for the time
being.
He looked slightly taken aback, his blue eyes searching mine. “Ella?”
Catching my breath, I replied, “I need some rest. Today was… overwhelming.” My heart raced, a
myriad of emotions coursing through me. Logan nodded, understanding evident in his gaze. “I get it.
Rest up, Ella. We’ll talk soon.”
With that, I turned on my heels and headed home, the day’s events replaying in my mind. The battle
had been won, justice had been served, and as I walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things
were only just beginning.
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