Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)(79)

Unraveling my fear-sweaty locked-together fingers, I wiped them on my black skirt then took Stewie’s small hand in mine.

He jumped, so focused on watching Penn and Larry as they bent to talk in hushed whispers in front of us.

I smiled, hiding my nerves, granting him some courage at the expense of my own. “It will be fine. You’ll see.”

His throat worked as he swallowed. He didn’t nod, merely turned his gaze back to the two men who’d saved him from a life of homelessness and settled in for the longest day of our lives.

“Truth will prevail, Elle.” Fleur leaned close. “That creep Greg can’t get away with this—”

“Today, we have Penn Everett versus Greg Hobson,” the court officer said loudly, narrowing his eyes at us lowly supporters. “Please remain silent. No outbursts will be permitted. No interruptions of any kind or you will be asked to leave.”

When everyone hushed, the officer nodded at the judge. “Ready to begin.”

The twelve jurors sat tall with importance with a rustle of clothing and murmurs of voices.

The rest of the court settled to watch, wound with tension, stiff with hope, wishing for a quick and fair verdict.

*

Recess.

How could there be such a thing?

I didn’t want coffee and cake when the life of the man I loved hung in an uncertain balance.

For the past hour, opening statements had been delivered. Greg’s lawyer went first, prancing around in knife-sharp stilettos, speaking to the jury as if they were dimwitted barn animals.

According to her, Greg had been mentally abused in his childhood. He’d been brainwashed by his father to believe he would end up marrying me and inheriting it all. When he wanted to travel the world after he finished college, he claimed his dad told him not to go. Otherwise, another man might steal our arrangement and my heart.

I burned through so many calories sitting through such filth.

Steve was a good man, and if he’d lied to his son about winning my hand, then I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. But I had a sneaking suspicion if he was here, he’d be as mortified as I was about the lies Greg spread.

Greg painted a picture of a tireless worker who would do anything for Belle Elle, but in the same breath, he came across as a brokenhearted lover who only wanted a second chance with me away from the influences of the company.

He claimed I went with him willingly.

That I wore chains and let him hit me all because I wanted what he had to offer. I wanted to be with him because that sort of thing turned me on.

Please.

Not for the first time, I wished Steve and Dad had come to bear witness—to finally see the games Greg loved to play, and they’d been so oblivious of. I understood why Steve wasn’t here—he loved his son, but he couldn’t stand by and watch two children he’d help raise battle in court. And I appreciated why Dad wouldn’t step foot in the court because he fussed over Belle Elle as if it was his wife and needed mollycoddling while this nightmare carried on.

Greg pouted for the jury, saying how happy we’d been, only for our romance to be destroyed when Penn swooped in and claimed me for himself. He came across far too convincing.

I was glad I hadn’t had anything to eat because I would’ve thrown up.

Bastard.

Larry’s opening statement had been short and to the point. That the accusations were false. That Greg had kidnapped me and Penn had rescued me. The end.

The jury fazed out a little, hearing the same rebuttal most of us had heard on the news or TV once upon a time.

I squirmed in my seat, wanting to leap to my feet and beg the jury to listen to the girl who’d been there, lived it. Prove to them that I loved Penn, not Greg. It had never been Greg. Penn had ruined me for all other men even when I didn’t know his name.

But Larry had sucked up their attention the moment he’d said, “What is on trial today isn’t if Penn went to that cabin with the intention of murder but whether or not the chief of police, Arnold Twig, has been using Mr. Everett for his own son’s misdemeanors for years.”

The judge had come alive, rapping with his little hammer. “Stick to the case at hand, Mr. Barns. We’re here to discuss the aggravated assault and attempted murder charges—not some fictitious witch-hunt on a respected police officer.”

Even though Dad was friends with Patrick Blake, we wouldn’t earn any special treatment. Which was a good thing and a bad thing. I was glad it would be fair for both parties but was sick of evil managing to hoodwink good far too often.

Greg had snickered, pleased Larry had been told off.

Penn stiffened, his shoulders high, begging me to massage away his stress if only I was allowed to lean forward and put my hands on him.

I’d probably be arrested for touching the defendant.

I’d sat on my fingers, turning my attention from the man who turned my heart molten to Larry.

He’d merely smiled at the judge with his hands crossed politely. “It’s all linked, sir. And I can prove it.”

Goosebumps darted down my spine for the fiftieth time since he’d said that. My mind snapped out of the last few hours in court, slapping me back into the present.

Sitting on plastic seats outside the courtroom, holding a flimsy cup of coffee thanks to Fleur shoving it in my hands, I hoped and prayed that Greg would do the right thing.