Chapter Twenty-Two
Jack
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I T STARTS WITH A SMILE .
That’s all I can offer her as she walks toward the stand. Sam is a dick. I know his type. I’ve seen guys like him operate all my life. They use people. They prey on good girls. If I would have been here a year ago, I would have run that piece of shit out of town. I watch him watch her and it makes my head pound with barely contained rage. That asshole doesn’t get to look at her. He has no right to do this to her. I want to pummel him.
My eyes move back to her. I know she’d rather be anywhere else. She gives me a quick glance. Her eyes are glassy and wide. She’s doing her best not to look at him. And he’s staring at her. It’s intimidation. I look at Aggie.
“She’ll be fine,” she whispers. “Ignore him.”
Easier said than done.
Jinnie raises her right hand and swears to tell the truth. Her voice is so small I barely hear it. She sits, and I don’t know if the bench I’m sitting on feels hard because it is or because my whole damn body is tight with nerves.
Her lawyer stands, calm and professional. His voice is steady, his tone even. But my eyes don’t leave Jinnie. She’s gripping the sides of the chair like she’s bracing for impact.
I want to walk up there, take her hand, and tell her it’s okay. That she doesn’t have to do this alone. But I’m stuck here, in the damn gallery, with nothing to do but watch. And seethe.
“Jinnie, can you tell the court what your relationship with Mr. Crawford was like at the beginning?”
She swallows hard. “It was confusing. At first, I thought he liked me. Like, really liked me. He was nice, sweet... said the right things. He was a little older than me, but I thought that was cool.”
Her attorney nods. I realize I’m about to get a play-by-play of their relationship from start to finish. I have to listen to her describe how he love-bombed her.
And I can’t react.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Mr. Langley says. “How did you meet Mr. Crawford?”
Jinnie takes a shaky breath. “He came into the bakery. He told me he had seen a post on social media that I had put up. He was very... attentive. He came back the next day and the day after. I felt... special. He seemed so interested in me. This older, attractive stranger asked all these questions about my life, my dreams. I’d never had someone pay that much attention to me before. He was nothing like the guys I went to school with. I was still in high school and felt like the cool girl dating the college guy.”
Her lawyer gives her a reassuring nod. “And how did the relationship progress?”
“It moved fast,” she admits, her eyes flicking to the floor for a moment before she forces herself to look back up. “He wanted to see me all the time. Texts, calls, showing up at my work unannounced. At first, I thought it was sweet, like he really cared. I asked why he wasn’t in classes and he told me he was taking the semester off.”
Sam’s lawyer shifts in her seat, her expression unreadable. Sam himself sits perfectly still, his face a mask of indifference, but I can see the tension in his jaw. He’s not as calm as he wants everyone to think.
“I didn’t know then that he wasn’t enrolled in school. He lied about that and a lot of other things. I found out way too late that he was living with roommates in a house they rented and he didn’t have a job. But at the time, I was so caught up in the attention... the idea that someone like him could want someone like me.”
Her lawyer gives her a sympathetic look. “And how did the relationship change over time?”
She exhales slowly. “It got intense. He wouldn’t let me out of his sight. If I didn’t answer his texts right away, he’d freak out. He’d accuse me of losing interest, of seeing someone else. I started feeling like I had to check in with him all the time just to keep him from getting mad.”
I clench my fists under the table, my stomach twisting into knots. I want to punch Sam in the face. Repeatedly.
“I graduated high school and my parents bought me a tiny home to put on their property. Sam was always coming over. It felt like he was more interested in my life than me. He was always out walking the property... assessing. One time I saw him looking at property on his laptop. He said he was looking at places for us to buy. He said he wanted to see if the property was a good deal.”
“Can you clarify what you mean by that?” her lawyer prompts.
Jinnie nods slowly. “He asked a lot of questions about my parents. Their business. Their property. It started as casual stuff—like, ‘Oh, how big is the house?’ or ‘Do you think your family will pass it down to you someday?’ I didn’t think much of it at first.”
I clench my fists. It’s subtle, the way he worked her. I’ve seen guys like Sam before. Not just smooth talkers—manipulators. Calculators. They test the water before diving in.
“But then it got more persistent,” she continues. “He’d bring it up all the time. He’d say things like, ‘It must be nice knowing someday that’ll all be yours,’ or ‘Have your parents ever thought about putting it in your name early?’ I told him they needed it. That they worked hard for it. But he’d just brush it off.”
The lawyer nods. “And how did that make you feel?”
She hesitates, eyes flicking to where I sit.
I try to give her something—warmth, courage, whatever I’ve got left.
“I didn’t see him for what he was doing, but I did tell him I didn’t want to think about my parents dying,” she says quietly. “I started to feel like something was off. We’d fight and I would tell him we should slow down. Every time I’d start to question things, he’d do something sweet. Bring me flowers, write me notes, tell me how much he loved me.”
I feel it like a gut punch. I can see how hard it is for her to say it. She still doesn’t want to believe it. That’s the worst part. She wants to see the good in people so badly that she let him drag her into this.
The lawyer keeps going. “What about the wedding?”
Jinnie’s lips press into a line before she answers. “I didn’t want to get married. At least, not like that. Not without my parents. Not in Vegas. But he kept saying I was eighteen and could make my own decisions. That if I really loved him, we didn’t need anyone else. He made it feel like if I didn’t say yes, I was proving I didn’t love him.” Her voice cracks a little.
Damn, I hate this.
She takes a breath and keeps going. “I felt guilty. Like I was doing something wrong by having doubts. He kept pushing. And eventually I gave in.”
My stomach twists. I remember how small she looked when she first told me about this. Like she was carrying this invisible weight no one else could see. And now here she is, unpacking it in front of strangers.
“After we got back, I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my parents. I said he was just staying with me for a while. And they were supportive because they didn’t know the truth. They had met Sam several times. He had dinner at their house and told my dad he loved me.”
“What happened after that?”
“The first week was okay. He was still nice. But then he started bringing up the property again. More directly. He wanted me to talk to my parents about signing it over to me—and then to him. I kept telling him no. That they needed it, and I didn’t want to betray them. He said if it was in his name, he could say they were paying rent or something. It would be a tax write-off. I didn’t understand and I never took the time to look into it. I was never going to ask them to sign over their land. We had a big fight about it. Then one day I came home from work and he was just gone. No note. No explanation. Nothing.”
Jinnie looks down at her lap.
Her lawyer lets the silence hang a beat. “Thank you, Jinnie. No further questions.”
Sam’s lawyer rises like she’s on a stage, smooth and precise. I don’t like her. Not just because she’s representing a snake, but her. I don’t like how slick she is. No wonder Sam hired her.
She approaches the stand, smiling that too-slick smile. “Ms. Parker, I understand this must be difficult for you. But I’d like to ask a few questions.”
Jinnie just nods.
“Would you say you were in love with Mr. Crawford at the time of your marriage?”
“I thought I was,” she answers.
“And you willingly went to Las Vegas with him?”
“Yes.”
“You were not drugged, coerced, or threatened into the marriage?”
“No.”
“So you made the decision yourself?”
“I felt like I didn’t have a choice.”
The lawyer raises his eyebrows. “But you said yourself, you were eighteen. An adult. You had legal autonomy.”
“I know,” Jinnie replies. “But he knew how to manipulate me. He knew I was in love with him.”
Sam’s lawyer tilts her head. “I thought you said you tried to end it several times?”
Jinnie opens her mouth and then closes it. “I did, but he always found a way to get me to change my mind.”
“Really? He forced you to change your own mind?”
“No. I’m saying—”
“Did he ever threaten you?”
“I already said no,” Jinnie answers.
“And as far as I know, my client is not skilled at mind control,” she says. “You made the choice to be with him. Marry him. Live with him.”
“I did and now I’m choosing not to be with him,” Jinnie says defiantly. “He took advantage of my naivety and manipulated me.”
“Is it possible you’re just regretting a hasty decision and projecting blame onto my client?”
I bristle. I’m on my feet before I realize it. “That’s enough,” I snap.
Every eye in the courtroom turns toward me. The judge glares over his glasses.
“Sir, you will remain silent,” he says, firm but not yelling. “This is your only warning. If you interrupt again, I will have you removed.”
Aggie yanks me back down by the sleeve, whispering sharply, “Sit. You’re not helping her right now.”
I sit. But it takes everything in me not to explode.
Jinnie doesn’t look back at me. Her jaw’s set tight, and her hands are white-knuckled in her lap.
Sam’s lawyer continues, undeterred. “Ms. Parker, is it not true that you have a vested interest in your family’s property?”
“I don’t want the property. I want my parents to keep it. I always have.”
“And yet, they’ve made no moves to transfer ownership, have they?”
“Because I told them not to. They offered. I said no.”
Sam’s lawyer walks slowly back to her table, flipping through a folder like she’s already dismissed Jinnie’s entire existence.
“No further questions,” she says.
I look at Aggie. “Is it over?” I whisper.
“Not even close,” she mutters.