Chapter 59
Anna
“Hopefully, this is the last court appearance,” I murmured, glancing at my reflection while Nancy carefully styled my hair. My hands just went through the motions with my makeup, and it helped me stay calm even though my brain was going a mile a minute.
I was nervous—no, more than nervous. My stomach knotted at the thought of the outcome. But even more than that, I worried about Ian. The thought of him waiting, carrying that same tension I felt, made my chest ache.
I spritzed on my most expensive cologne, letting the scent settle around me.
If we win today, I want this to be what he smells when we finally—hopefully—embrace.
Maybe even kiss. A small smile tugged at my lips, despite myself.
I forced my thoughts back to reality, trying not to let my heart get ahead of reason.
My hand lingered over the sealed envelope Ian had given me, tucked safely in my drawer.
I’d resisted opening it—he’d told me to wait—but the curiosity gnawed at me.
Just for today, I decided, I’d carry it with me.
The contents could wait until the right moment.
I slipped it into my bag, feeling its weight like a quiet promise.
I slid Ian’s engagement ring onto my finger, the familiar weight grounding me…but then my eyes fell on the one Michael had given me, lying loose in the drawer. Carefully, I folded it into a scrap of tissue. Today, I told myself, I would give it back to him—before I forgot again.
I looked up at Nancy, who was finishing the last strands of my hair. “Let’s go,” I said, trying to steady my voice, to keep the tremor of excitement from escaping.
After a long, quiet drive, we finally arrived at the courthouse. The moment we stepped inside, I could feel the difference. It was far more crowded than last time—voices murmuring, footsteps echoing, tension hanging thick in the air.
Then Tatum and Chloe came into my view.”
They were already bending down, wrapping me in careful hugs, mindful of the wheelchair.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised.
“We came to support you, obviously,” Chloe said with a soft smile. “We took the day off.”
My throat tightened. “Thank you. That means more to me than you know.”
Their gazes shifted to Nancy, who stood behind me with her hands resting on the wheelchair handles, steady and protective.
“Hi, Nancy,” Chloe greeted warmly.
“Hi,” Tatum added. “Where’s your dad?”
“He went inside already,” I said. Is Veronica here?”
Chloe frowned slightly. “No. You know she wouldn’t come.”
“To support Michael, I mean,” I clarified.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. We don’t even talk to her these days.”
The thought lingered uncomfortably, but I pushed it aside. “Let’s go inside. It’s almost time.”
Nancy wheeled me forward, Chloe and Tatum falling into step beside us. Just before we went inside, I spotted Michael standing near the entrance—with Dr. Collins’s attorney. They were deep in conversation, close enough that it was obvious they knew each other.
“Can we stop for a moment?” I asked quietly. “I need to give Michael something.”
Nancy hesitated only briefly before nodding and steering us toward them.
“Please,” Michael was saying to Miss. Simmons. “Just hear me out.”
He looked up when he noticed us. “Anna.” His voice softened. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I replied, my hands already moving to my bag.
I pulled out the tissue I’d folded carefully, the weight of what it held pressing into my chest. “I’m only here to return something.”
I unwrapped the tissue and revealed the ring.
Miss. Simmons glanced down at it, her expression unreadable. Then she straightened. “I’ll see you inside,” she said calmly, before turning and walking away.
Michael took the ring slowly, as if it might burn him. I nodded once, signalling that this was all I’d come for, and Nancy began to turn the wheelchair toward the courtroom.
“Wait,” he called.
“Keep moving,” I murmured to Nancy without looking back.
We went inside.
We moved toward our usual spot—on the end, where my chair could fit without drawing too much attention.
As soon as we settled, my eyes instinctively scanned the room.
And then I saw him.
Ian.
His gaze was already locked onto me, unwavering. His expression was serious, controlled—too controlled. I couldn’t read what he was thinking, but I felt it anyway, the weight of his attention anchoring me in place. He didn’t look away. Not once.
For a moment, everything else faded—the murmurs, the shifting bodies, the tension humming beneath the surface.
Then the bailiff’s voice cut through the room.
“All rise.”
And just like that, the spell broke—but Ian’s eyes never left me.
Michael took the stand.
Ian’s attorney rose slowly and moved closer, her expression carefully neutral. Too neutral. A quiet unease settled in my chest.
They know each other.
The thought hit hard. Is this case compromised?
“Mr. Miller,” she began calmly, “now that the medical ethics allegations have been fully dismissed by the medical board and it has ruled unanimously in favour of Dr. Collins—finding no misconduct or unethical behaviour—I’d like to move on to your remaining claim.”
She paused, letting the silence stretch.
“You’ve stated that Dr. Collins pursued Miss. Mathews for her money. Can you explain that accusation to the court?”
Michael straightened. “He had motive,” he said firmly. “No one falls in love that quickly. It’s unrealistic. He must’ve been in financial trouble. Anna’s inheritance would’ve solved that.”
A murmur rippled through the courtroom.
“As a lawyer,” Miss. Simmons replied coolly, “one would expect you to conduct thorough research before making such a serious allegation.”
“Objection,” Michael’s attorney snapped. “That’s argumentative.”
“Sustained,” the judge said, though his tone lacked conviction.
Miss. Simmons nodded once and continued.
“Miss. Mathews’ late mother left a three-million-dollar policy. One million was distributed to her father. The remaining amount—after thirteen years of interest—now totals approximately 3.8 million dollars. Divided equally between the daughters, each would receive around 1.9 million.”
She tilted her head slightly. “I fail to see why Dr. Collins—given his financial standing—would require any portion of that.”
Michael scoffed. “He lives in luxury. Upper-class suburb. Expensive car. He opened a private practice. He could be buried in debt for all we know. Anna’s money could’ve been convenient.”
“All right,” Miss. Simmons said smoothly. “Let’s unpack that together.”
She lifted two thick files.
“Your Honour, I have both Mr. Miller’s and Dr. Collins’ financial records here for comparison.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “Why do you have mine?”
She ignored him.
“Let’s begin with Dr. Collins.”
She flipped open the first file.
“Dr. Collins is a highly sought-after neurosurgeon. While employed at the hospital, he earned an annual base salary of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Performance incentives and extended shifts added another one hundred and fifty thousand, placing his annual income at approximately six hundred thousand dollars.”
I swallowed.
“He later resigned to open a private practice,” she continued. “A close associate invested several million dollars into the venture. The practice is now valued at ten million dollars.”
A ripple of shock moved through the room.
“Dr. Collins also purchased a penthouse at auction several years ago, which he recently sold—netting a profit of 4.5 million dollars. He then purchased his current residence in the affluent suburb you mentioned, Mr. Miller. Paid in full. Cash.”
She looked directly at Michael.
“Dr. Collins carries no debt. He maintains conservative spending habits, has no dependents, and holds substantial liquid assets. His current net worth sits just above ten million dollars.”
She closed the file.
“I see no financial incentive for Dr. Collins to pursue Miss. Mathews’ inheritance.”
The courtroom buzzed. The judge raised an eyebrow.
She’s good, I thought.
Terrifyingly good.
And I had no idea Ian was worth that much.
Miss. Simmons turned to the second file.
“Now, Mr. Miller.”
The shift was calculated.
“You earn an annual salary of eighty thousand dollars. You carry fifty thousand in student loan debt. A two-hundred-thousand-dollar mortgage. Fifteen thousand in credit card debt.”
She paused.
“Wouldn’t it be reasonable to suggest that you—not Dr. Collins—had a financial motive?”
Michael shook his head violently. “No. You’re wrong. I loved Anna. We dated in high school—long before money was involved.”
“And you broke up in high school,” she countered.
Silence.
“Tell me, Mr. Miller—when did you reconnect with Miss. Mathews?”
He hesitated.
Miss. Simmons answered for him. “Two years ago. Precisely five months after you started your new job.”
Her voice sharpened. “That’s when you learned about her inheritance.”
She took a step closer.
“The clause stated the funds would be released upon marriage—or upon her turning thirty. Whichever came first.”
She glanced at the file. “You married her shortly before she turned thirty.”
A beat.
“Convenient.”
“Objection!” his attorney shouted.
“I’m establishing motive, Your Honor,” Miss. Simmons said calmly.
“Had Miss. Mathews turned thirty, the inheritance would’ve been released, and she would have known about it. She may have protected herself. Possibly with a prenuptial agreement.”
She let the implication sink in.
“But she didn’t. Because she believed she had nothing.”
“That’s not true,” Michael blurted.
“Isn’t it?” Miss. Simmons asked quietly.
She leaned forward slightly; eyes locked on him.
“Perhaps that’s why you wanted to end life support.
As her husband…easy access to what you believed was hers.
But then Dr. Collins refused, and you filed for divorce.
At least that way, you thought you could get half.
Still, you couldn’t access anything because the law protects an unresponsive patient.
And that…is why you tried so hard to win her back, to marry her again. Isn’t that right, Mr. Miller?”
“It’s not true,” he muttered, voice low, defensive.
“Weren’t you engaged shortly before you pursued Anna? You were in a three-year relationship. Your fiancée earned twice your salary and had no debt. But she requested a prenuptial agreement.”
Michael froze.
“That agreement would’ve placed you at a disadvantage,” she continued. “So, you ended that engagement and pursued Anna instead. Someone you believed had money—and wouldn’t ask questions.”
“Objection!” his attorney cried. “Speculation! The ex-girlfriend isn’t here to confirm this.”
Miss. Simmons slowly turned toward the audience.
“I can confirm it,” she said evenly.
“Because I was the ex-girlfriend.”
“No further questions,” she said calmly.