Chapter Thirty-Four
Matlock
I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white.
“But Rosalind—”
“Rosalind is going to argue that Sadie orchestrated this,” I said. “That she planned it, and that the recording is a manipulation. But the jury won’t buy it. Not after they see that footage. Not after they heard Savannah Reed’s testimony about Alan’s pattern of abuse.”
I kept my tone even. Controlled. Like my chest wasn’t caving in.
Six years. Six years of touching him in the dark, of claiming him in secret, of pretending I had the right to possess him while refusing to acknowledge him in daylight. Six years of taking everything he offered and giving him nothing but shame in return.
Simon had been willing to go to prison.
I couldn’t risk my reputation.
The comparison made me sick.
Simon closed his eyes, his breath shuddering. “So it’s over?”
“Almost,” I said. “We still have to get through closing arguments. We still have to wait for the verdict. But, Simon—”
I reached over and gripped his hand, squeezing hard. Feeling the warmth of his skin, the strength in his fingers.
“The jury is going to acquit you.”
His eyes opened, and for the first time in weeks, I saw something like hope flicker there.
“Okay,” he whispered.
I released his hand and got out of the SUV. Simon followed, and we walked to the front door together.
Inside, the house was quiet. Empty. Simon’s parents hadn’t arrived yet.
“I’ll make coffee,” Simon said, his voice steadier now.
“Your mom will want to do that,” I said.
He gave me a faint smile. “You’re probably right.”
We stood in the kitchen, the silence stretching between us. I wanted to pull him into my arms, to kiss him, to tell him everything I’d been too afraid to say for six years.
But I didn’t.
Because I was still a coward.
The sound of tires on gravel broke the moment. Simon moved to the window and looked out.
“They’re here,” he said.
I nodded and straightened my jacket, slipping back into the role of lawyer. Professional. Detached.
Fucking coward.
The front door opened, and David and Susan entered, their faces tight with worry. Sadie walked in behind them, her movements hesitant. She looked small. Fragile. Like she might shatter if someone touched her too hard. Susan immediately went to Simon, pulling him into a hug.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I’m okay, Mom,” Simon said, though his voice cracked slightly.
David looked at me, his expression unreadable. “What happened in there, Tony?”
Susan released Simon and moved to the kitchen, her hands already reaching for the coffee pot. “I’ll make coffee,” she said, her voice brisk. “We all need it.”
Simon caught my eye, and despite everything, a small smile tugged at his lips.
Told you.
I almost smiled back.
Almost.
The sound of another vehicle pulling up drew my attention. I moved to the window and saw Keys’ motorcycle in the driveway. The door opened and closed softly. He looked in my direction and I nodded, then his eyes found Sadie. Something crossed over his face, something I didn’t want to think about.
David stepped forward, his voice gentle. “Sadie, sweetheart, come sit down.”
Sadie nodded and moved to the couch, sitting on the edge like she might bolt at any second. Keys followed, sitting in the chair closest to her, his eyes tracking her every movement.
Sadie didn’t look at him; instead, she stared at the floor.
Simon sat beside her, close but not touching. “Sadie,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
She nodded but didn’t speak.
Susan returned from the kitchen with a tray of coffee mugs, setting them on the coffee table. “Here,” she said, handing one to Sadie.
Sadie took it with trembling hands but didn’t drink.
David sat in the other chair, his eyes moving between Sadie and me. “Tony,” he said. “What happened?”
I took a breath and moved to stand near the fireplace, where I could see everyone. Simon sat on the couch beside Sadie. David and Susan sat across from them. Keys remained in the chair closest to Sadie, his posture tense, his eyes never leaving her.
“The recording changes everything,” I said.
My voice was steady. Professional. Like I was presenting closing arguments instead of watching my entire world shift beneath my feet.
“It proves that Sadie killed Alan Sanders in self-defense. It shows Alan attacking her, choking her, threatening her life. It shows her defending herself. And it proves Simon wasn’t there.”
Simon had known. He’d known Sadie had killed Alan. He’d seen her covered in blood, seen the knife, seen the body. And he’d made a choice in that moment, a choice to protect her at any cost.
Even when the cost was his own life.
“So Simon’s free?” Susan asked, her voice breaking.
“Almost,” I said. “We still have to get through the rest of the trial. Rosalind will fight this. She’ll argue that the recording was doctored, or that Sadie planned it and that Simon was complicit.
But the jury won’t believe her. Not after they see that footage.
Not after they heard the testimonies we’ve already presented. ”
I kept talking. Explaining the legal strategy, the timeline, the likely outcomes. My brain functioned on autopilot, years of courtroom experience carrying me through.
But underneath, I was drowning in anger.
Simon had been willing to destroy himself. Completely. Unconditionally. For his love of his sister.
And I couldn’t even hold his hand in public.
“What about Sadie?” David asked, his voice tight. “Will she be charged?”
I hesitated. This was the part I didn’t want to say.
“Legally, Sadie committed homicide,” I said carefully. “But it was self-defense. The recording proves that. If the DA decides to charge her, we’ll argue self-defense, and we’ll win. But given the circumstances—” I paused. “Alan’s history, the evidence... I don’t think they’ll pursue charges.”
“You don’t think?” Susan said, her voice rising. “You’re not sure?”
“I can’t guarantee anything,” I said. “But the recording is powerful evidence. It shows exactly what happened. It shows that Sadie had no choice.”
Sadie’s hands tightened around the coffee mug, her knuckles white.
“I killed him,” she whispered. “I killed him, and Simon almost went to prison for it.”
“You defended yourself,” Simon said firmly. “You did what you had to do.”
“But you—”
“I made my choice,” Simon interrupted. “And I’d make it again.”
And he would. That was the thing that gutted me. Simon would make the same choice tomorrow, next week, ten years from now. He’d take the blame. He’d sit in that cell again. He’d face that jury again.
Because that was who he was.
Someone capable of radical, selfless love. Someone willing to annihilate himself for the people he cared about.
Someone who deserved the same in return.
And I’d given him six years of hiding. Six years of shame. Six years of taking everything he offered while giving him nothing but secrecy and cowardice.
Sadie’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked away.
Keys leaned forward slightly, his voice low. “Sadie.”
She didn’t look at him.
“Sadie,” he said again, softer this time.
She shook her head, her shoulders trembling.
Keys sat back, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists. He looked like he wanted to reach for her, to pull her into his arms, to tell her everything would be okay.
But he didn’t.
Because he knew she wasn’t ready.
I watched the way Keys studied her like she was the only thing in the room, and the way Sadie avoided his gaze like she couldn’t bear to see the concern in his eyes.
Fuck.
That is going to be messy.
“What happens next?” David asked, pulling my attention back.
“Tomorrow morning, we reconvene,” I said. “Judge Markham will rule on the admissibility of the recording. Rosalind will object, but he’ll allow it. Then the jury will watch it.”
“And then?” Susan asked.
“And then we finish the trial,” I said. “Closing arguments. Jury deliberation. Verdict.”
“How long?” Simon asked.
“A day. Maybe two.”
And then it would be over.
All of it would disappear.
Simon would be free.
And I would lose him.
Simon nodded, his expression unreadable.
Susan stood and moved to the kitchen, her hands shaking as she poured herself more coffee. David followed, placing a hand on her shoulder.
I looked at Simon. He was staring at Sadie, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and guilt.
He’s blaming himself. For not protecting her sooner. For not stopping Alan before it got to this point.
I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault.
But I knew he wouldn’t believe me.
Keys shifted in his chair, his eyes still locked on Sadie. “You need anything?” he asked quietly.
Sadie shook her head, still not looking at him.
“Sadie—”
“I’m fine,” she clipped, her voice sharp.
Keys sat back, his jaw tightening.
The tension in the room was suffocating.
I cleared my throat. “There’s one more thing,” I said.
Simon’s head snapped toward me.
“Simon confessed to a crime he didn’t commit,” I stated, my voice steady but grave. “He took the fall for his sister. Even though that confession was made to protect Sadie, it creates a legal liability.”
“What kind of liability?” David asked, his voice tight.
“Obstruction of justice. Filing a false report. Potentially conspiracy to obstruct justice,” I said. “The prosecution could argue that Simon deliberately misled law enforcement, that he interfered with their investigation by confessing to something he didn’t do.”
Susan’s face went pale. “But he was trying to protect Sadie.”
“I know,” I agreed. “And that matters. It matters morally, and it may matter legally. But the fact remains that Simon made a false confession. He lied to the police. He provided false evidence by putting his blood on the knife.”
Simon’s jaw clenched. “So even if the murder charge is dropped...”
“You could still face charges for the obstruction,” I finished. “Yes. It’s a serious complication, and we need to be prepared for it.”
“Can you fight it?” David asked.
“I can,” I said. “And I will. The circumstances of protecting an abuse victim, a family member in danger, are mitigating factors. A good prosecutor might decide it’s not worth pursuing. But a vindictive one, like Rosalind, might see it as an opportunity to still get a conviction of some kind.”
I looked directly at Simon. “This is why we need to be strategic about how we present this to the jury. The recording proves Sadie acted in self-defense. But we need to control the narrative around your confession before the prosecution can weaponize it.”
“What does that mean?” Susan asked.
“It means we address it head-on,” I said. “We don’t hide it. We explain it. We show the jury that Simon’s actions, while technically illegal, were motivated by love and protection for his sister. We make them understand why he did it, even if we can’t make it legal.”
Simon was staring at his hands. “So I could still go to prison?”
“Possibly,” I replied, and I hated the honesty in my voice. “But not for murder. And not if I can help it.” Simon’s eyes met mine, and I saw the question there. “We’ll know more tomorrow,” I said. “After the jury sees the recording.” Simon nodded slowly, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion.
Susan returned to the couch and sat beside Sadie, her hand resting gently on her daughter’s knee. Sadie didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean into the touch either.
Keys watched from his chair, his expression unreadable.
David stood near the fireplace, his arms crossed, his eyes distant.
And I stood in the middle of it all, the lawyer, the strategist, the man who’d just watched the truth unfold on a screen and knew that everything was about to change.
The case was won.
But the cost... the emotional, psychological cost was written on every face in this room.
And I didn’t know if any of us would ever be the same.