Blackbird (A Stepbrother Romance #1)(52)

They didn’t.

The trial lasted for seventeen days. That translated to three weeks, since we skipped a Wednesday because a juror had a doctor’s appointment and the trial did not continue on Fridays. Everything was very stiff and formal. This was federal court, I was charged with federal crimes. Insider trading, wire fraud, and embezzlement.

The biggest piece of evidence was the papers in my attache, and all the papers in the vault with my fingerprints on them. Brittany wasn’t watching Martin, she was setting me up. She showed me paper after paper, even had me sign stuff, and I didn’t realize what I was doing. The vault recorded every time I was in and out and there were signatures from the sign-in books, and they brought in people to testify that I’d been seen more frequently in the office for the last six weeks or so. I just sat there and absorbed it. My lawyers would tear them apart. It didn’t mean jack shit, there was no proof I actually did anything, only that I knew. I was waiting for the big Perry Mason moment when my lawyers would turn and dramatically accuse Martin where he sat in the gallery with Mom and Eve.

Any comfort that thought might bring me turned to ashes in my mouth when I saw her. Eve looked like somebody died. Her eyes were always red, and there were tracks burned in her cheeks from crying. She looked like a drowned rat in ill fitting clothes, staring down at the floor most of the time with my mother’s arm around her, listening.

They had other evidence. It was all bullshit but they had it.

They spun a story and it went like this: Some three years ago when I started sleeping with Martin’s daughter, I began scheming to get rid of him, because he could catch me at my games. According to the prosecution, I’d been running the company behind the scenes for two full years while Martin was in the dark, trying to put out my fires without knowing the cause. His main concern was maintaining the trust and my family’s accounts, and his wife.

I wanted to throw up.

My instrument to achieve this was Brittany. She lied to me, she hadn’t been working with the company for a few weeks, she’d been working at Amsel since she graduated from college herself, almost four years ago.

According to them, it was two years ago when we started the affair.

Immunity. They gave her immunity to testify against me.

The rest of it was a blur, but I remember the day she said her piece with crystalline, focused clarity.

She sat in the witness box in a dark suit, like she was going to a funeral. Her frizzy hair was smoothed, bound in a severe bun. She looked twice as old as she did the day I met her, but she had a childlike vulnerability that must have absolutely wowed the jury. She sat primly in the box and waited.

Ronald Powers asked the questions himself.

“Can you tell us your full name?”

“Brittany Lynne Andrews.”

They had her swear in. No book or So Help Me God like TV, it was all very formal.

When she was done with that he looked over at me and said, “Can you identify that man, please.”

“His name is Victor Amsel.”

“Thank you. Can you describe the nature of your relationship with him?”

She cleared her throat, and turned red. It was very, very convincing. I would have been fooled myself. She looked guiltily at the jury, looked past me at Eve, and never once set her eyes on me. She swallowed hard and said, “For the last two years, he and I were engaged in a sexual affair.”

You could hear a pin drop, except for the soft sound of weeping. Eve.

I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t make myself.

Stop it, I thought. I was starting to get angry with her. How dare she believe this bullshit. My hands clenched into fists.

Morty grabbed my arm. “Quiet,” he murmured.

“That’s not at issue here,” Powers said, slyly. “What else can you tell us about your relationship?”

“It is an issue,” she said, calmly. “That’s how it started. I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. I’m older, dedicated to my career. I didn’t get out much, and the heir to the company was showering me with attention, but he was just using me.”

“How was he using you?”

She sniffed and scrubbed at her eyes. “He needed me to cover his tracks. He’s been stealing money from the company and running bust-outs on some of the companies Amsel bought into for over two years now. I kept notes.”

“You did?”

“I did. I thought… I thought he was going to… propose to me,” she said, sighing. “He bought an engagement ring. He took me with him to look at it, but it was for her. Then he came to me with this plan. He was going to blow everything open and blame his stepfather. He needed to get rid of him. Everything we did was a constant game of cat and mouse, avoiding Martin Ross catching us in the act. I was terrified. When I wanted to stop, he threatened me.”

“Threatened you?”

“Yes. He said I was nothing to someone like him, he could make me disappear with a phone call and no one would care. I was scared, so I started putting together a file. Like insurance. I started getting material to tie him to his crimes. Then I found out he was going to propose to Martin’s daughter. He… he hit me,” she broke down, “he said if I told anyone about us he’d kill me himself, and-“

“Objection,” Morty snarled, “This is all hearsay, and-“

“Overruled,” the judge said, calmly.