Chapter 23 — Kiera
Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit that Nial had custom-made for me, I stood at the plaintiff’s table, balanced on a pair of heels. A stack of documents was arranged before me, my manicured fingers resting on the wood.
I looked calm and collected on the outside, even though my heart was racing in my chest. Behind me, July sat quietly beside me, hands clasped on her lap.
When the doors opened, and Vika walked in with his legal team, I locked my jaw, ready for this battle. Their shoes scuffed against the floor, their presence commanding attention.
The arrogant prick glared at me with a mocking grin on his lips as he took his seat across from me. I held his gaze, a faint smirk lining a corner of my mouth. That single gesture caused his eyes to squint, as if suspecting I had something up my sleeve.
Good.
Let him feel the weight of that uncertainty.
Soon, the judge entered.
“All rise,” the bailiff called.
Chairs scraped against the floor as the gallery sprang to their feet.
The judge took her seat behind the bench. “You may be seated.”
The trial began.
At first, Vika’s lawyer controlled the rhythm of the courtroom. Calm, confident, and manipulative. He tried to paint July as mentally unstable, and his smooth talk soon had some of the jury members nodding their heads.
“This doesn’t look good,” July whispered to me.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” I reassured her with the same tone.
While Vika’s lawyer was speaking, I listened, noticing the flaws, the inconsistencies, and the loopholes I could use against him. He was smart. But even smart people made mistakes. Unfortunately for him, I was trained to spot said mistakes.
When it was finally my turn, I rose, head held up high.
“Your Honor,” I began, my voice steady and even. “The defense pushes through with the idea that my client fabricated these claims. But we have financial records to prove that she is, in fact, telling the truth.”
Silence.
I slid a folder toward the clerk.
Bank transfers appeared on the screen, large numbers disappearing and reappearing under different names.
A faint murmur rose from the gallery, and members of the jury exchanged glances. Vika’s expression darkened, his intense gaze fixed on me like a warning.
“What you’re looking at are transactions that occurred repeatedly over a span of five years,” I continued, ignoring the sick son of a bitch. “The companies involved all traced back to the same account.” I turned in his direction. “Viktor Tarasov.”
His jaw locked, rage flickering in his eyes.
“Objection!” his lawyer barked, rising to his feet.
“Overruled,” the judge said and faced me again. “You may continue.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” I bowed slightly. “The plaintiff would like to call a witness to the stand.”
“Proceed.”
I turned toward the back of the court. “The plaintiff calls Isaac McCall.”
He rose from the gallery, stiff and uneasy as he walked toward the stand, guided by the bailiff.
“Please, raise your hand,” the bailiff said to him. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“I do.” He nodded.
The bailiff stepped aside, and the witness sat on the chair, sweat glistening on his forehead.
He didn’t want to do this before; the man was terrified of Vika and of what the Bratva would do to him. It wasn’t until after I assured him that someone whose rank was way higher than Vika was willing to protect him that he agreed to testify.
My heels clicked against the floor as I approached him. “Mr. McCall, could you state your full name for the record?”
He cleared his throat, tense. “Isaac. Isaac McCall.”
I flipped through the file in my hand. “It says here that you’re a former employee of Mr. Viktor Tarasov. Correct?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“In what department did you offer your services?”
“Logistics,” he answered. “I used to handle transportation routes, shipments…stuff like that.”
“Interesting.” I paused for a second, stealing a glance back at Vika. “How long did you work for Mr. Tarasov before you quit?”
“About four and a half years or so.”
“And why did you quit?”
A pause.
I could see the way he struggled not to look in Vika’s direction.
“Because I found out the nature of the operations I was assisting with.”
I looked at the judge, then the jury, before returning my gaze to him. “Could you shed more light on that? Explain to the court what you mean.”
He paused again, longer this time.
“Are you under duress, Mr. McCall?” the judge asked him.
“No, Your Honor,” he answered.
“Then answer the question,” she said, looking right at him as though he was wasting her time.
“It was never cargo as they told me,” he answered. “The merchandise I was moving was people—women. Mostly young girls.”
Murmurs rose from the gallery, a bit noisier this time.
“Order!” the judge called.
Voices fell silent.
“Who authorized those operations, Mr. McCall?” I asked him.
He paused, wiping the sweat on his forehead. “Viktor Tarasov.”
Across the courtroom, Vika’s expression turned ugly, his fingers clenching into fists.
A small, self-satisfied grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. “That’ll be all. No further questions, Your Honor.” I walked back to my table, confident and proud.
When it was his turn to question Mr. McCall, the defense pushed him hard, trying to manipulate his testimony.
But fortunately for us, Mr. McCall, although scared, refused to retract his statement. He stood his ground, insisting that what he told the court was the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
As time went by, I provided more evidence linking Vika to the cases of human trafficking across the city. Piece by piece, the structure of his defense began to crack, leaving him frustrated and furious.
In my closing statement to the jury, I said, “This case isn’t complicated. It’s simply a matter of power. For years, this man, Viktor Tarasov, has indulged himself in this inhumane act, believing he would always get away with it.”
July smiled at me across the room.
“But not today,” I said. “Today, all those victims finally get the justice they deserve.”
The judge adjusted her glasses and scribbled something down on her notepad. She turned to the jury box and said, “Members of the jury, the case is now in your hands. Make the right decision.”
The jury retired to the jury room to deliberate on the case. My only concern was that they weren’t already compromised.
We sat in our seats for almost forty-five minutes, waiting for them to reach a verdict. July chewed on her nails, her feet tapping rapidly against the floor.
“Hey,” I called softly, wearing an encouraging grin. “Relax. Everything’s gonna be all right.”
“I sure hope so,” she whispered to herself.
The inner doors opened, and they all stepped in, heading back to their seats. I clenched my fists, my pulse quickening as the moment of truth arrived.
“Fuck, I’m scared,” July murmured, anxiety washed over her face.
“On the matter before the court,” one of them began, his voice as flat as the expression on his face.
The air was thick with tension; breaths ceased, hearts racing in anticipation.
He continued, “We, the jury, find the defendant….”
A pause.
I could literally hear my heart pounding like a freaking drum.
“Guilty.”
“Oh, thank God.” July breathed a sigh of relief, a hand on her chest.
“Fuckin’ bitch!” Vika snapped on the other side, eyes flashing with rage. “This changes nothing!”
Some officers rushed over and seized him before he neared our table.
“Let go of me!” he barked, struggling to set himself free. “And you.” His fiery gaze fell on July.
She held on to my arm, hiding behind me.
“You think she’s some kind of hero?” He laughed. “You’re even dumber than I thought. She doesn’t give a shit about you or the other girls. If she did, she wouldn’t be marrying my cousin—a man worse than me!”
Fuck.
I locked my jaw, seething in silence.
“What, you don’t believe me?” He met July’s gaze. “Ask her—she’s right in front of you. Ask her who her fiancé is!”
The officers dragged him away, but he kept yelling. “You’re just like the rest of us, Kiera—cold, ruthless, and manipulative. Welcome to the family!”
I lowered my head, fingers pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Is it true?” July’s voice cut through the fleeting stillness.
My heart sank as I turned and faced her. “Listen, I can explain….”
She backed away from me, disappointment flickering in her eyes. “So it is true….”
“July, it’s not what you think.”
“Are you engaged to one of them or not?”
I paused, unsure of how to begin explaining the complexity of my situation.
“Wow,” she whispered, lowering her head. “I trusted you.”
“I got you justice, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, and then you went around and tied yourself to the same oppressors you’ve been fighting for years.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “Make that make sense.”
I couldn’t. She wouldn’t understand even if I tried to explain.
“And here I was thinking you were different.” She shook her head. “I guess I was wrong.”
“July….”
“Thank you for putting that bastard away.” She grabbed her bag from the table. “But he’s right. You’re no better than him.”
I watched her walk away from me as though I were some ticking time bomb that could go off at any moment.
“Fuck,” I muttered, massaging my left temple.
The courtroom buzzed around me, but the sound felt distant, muffled. Without hesitation, I gathered my stuff and headed out.
My eyes squinted at the sun’s brightness as I descended the long steps at the entrance of the building. I’d just won another case, yet victory tasted bitter because it cost me the one person I wanted to protect.
The disappointment in her eyes broke my heart, especially because I couldn’t explain myself.
Across the street, Nial was waiting, leaning casually against his Rolls-Royce. His legs were crossed with both hands in his pockets. The second I met his gaze, a wave of relief washed over me.
My heart gladdened as he smiled at me, pride etched in his gaze. Despite the hollow feeling in my chest, I found myself smiling back.
Something about the way he looked at me sent tremors down my core. A fire was ignited within me, one that made my heart race in anticipation. Maybe what I needed right now was his dick and his possessive hands all over me.
I wanted him to fuck my stress away!