Chapter 326


    Chapter 326 Self-incrimination


    E


    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 using 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 myposure, 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, mming


    his fist on the desk.


    The judge, however, didn’t flinch. “That’s enough, Mr. Westbrook. The facts speak for themselves. This


    conversation 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.


    All rights ? N?velDrama.Org.


    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. “ying the damsel


    in distress, trying to bring down the big bad wolf?”


    I stepped back, refusing to let him intimidate me. “I don’t y games, Mr. Westbrook.”


    He leaned in, his breath stale and his voice dripping with menace. “You’re just a little princess who


    decided to y 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, in 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 re with determination.


    “Send them,” I replied defiantly. “I’ll be waiting.”


    For a moment, he seemed taken aback. Then, with a mockingugh, 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 arger 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


    asional 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 y 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 reced 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 used of evidence


    tampering, but now you’re threatening an opposingwyer within the confines of my courtroom. This


    case is over.” His voice rose with vehemence, echoing around the courtroom. “For contempt of court,


    both 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 pped handcuffs on both of them. As they were led out of the


    courtroom, I could barely hold back my smile. Westbrook shot me onest venomous look, but the


    triumphant feeling surging within me made his res insignificant..


    Logan, unable to contain his joy, reached out and gave me a high-five.


    “We did it, E,” he eximed. Exiting the courthouse, the golden light of thete 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 rx further into Logan’s arms. But as reality crept back in, I gently


    pushed him away, my face ame, 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. “E?”


    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, E. We’ll talk soon.”


    With that, I turned on my heels and headed home, the day’s events reying 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.