Revenge Served
Fenella
Three months later…
The Marshal’s voice echoes across the chamber. I sit in the audience with my heart pounding and my feet restless. The rows behind us fall silent, reporters lifting their cameras, waiting for the Justices to take their seats.
I squeeze Laird’s hand to steady my nerves. He leans in and whispers that everything’s going to be okay. I nod and give him a small, hopeful smile.
This is the last appeal at the Supreme Court.
After this, they can’t take the case anywhere else.
Two long years of motions, hearings, and delays, starting from the Federal District Court to the Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit.
The lower courts sentenced them to twenty years in prison and ordered all their assets forfeited.
If the Supreme Court agrees, it seals their fate.
If not… no. I don’t want to think about the other option.
The Justices enter. Everyone rises. My breath catches somewhere between my ribs. The Marshal declares the Court in session, and then we sit again, the benches creaking under the weight of tension.
Justice Barrett adjusts her glasses and begins reading the Court’s summary of the opinion. She moves through the pages with a calm, steady voice, outlining the issues, the arguments, the holdings below. Time crawls. My eyelids grow heavy, even as adrenaline keeps my spine stiff.
Every now and then, I glance at Amy. Her hair is tied back in a small ponytail.
Her face is darker now with patches of sun melasma.
She scrunches her nose and it makes the fat in her cheeks push forward even more.
Peter sits beside her, his face aging way too fast. The charming silver fox is gone, replaced by a weak old man.
Alan sits between them in his orange jail uniform.
His hair is long now, brushing his shoulders, nothing like the neat curls he used to keep.
Instead of looking thinner, he looks bigger, stronger, like he’s been working out nonstop in his cell.
There’s even a new tattoo on his forearm, though I can’t make out the design.
God. He’s not the polished man I used to know. He looks wild. Brutal. Unpredictable.
A chill runs up my spine. I take slow breaths and think of my baby. My sweet, tiny daughter waiting for me at home. As soon as I get through this, I’ll hold her again.
Justice Barrett pauses, looks down once more at the page, and delivers the line that seals everything:
“The judgment of the Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit is affirmed.”
Just that. No explanation. No drama. No second chances.
A ripple moves through the courtroom. Reporters shift, whispering, then surge forward toward the press area, raising microphones, trying to capture the first reaction from the defendants’ side.
“Well, it’s over,” I whisper to Laird with a long exhale.
“Yeah. Finally.” He rubs my back. “We did what we had to.”
“Did we do the right thing?” I ask, my voice small.
After all these past years, the guilt still hits me. If we hadn’t exposed everything, maybe Alan would’ve escaped and redeemed himself. But no. He chased me like a man possessed, driven by some twisted obsession he turned into a mission.
“Yes. He’ll stay away now. I’ll make sure of it,” Laird says, gripping my hand.
“Fenella!”
Alan’s voice detonates across the courtroom. My whole body freezes. My heart drops. For a second, it’s like I’m about to get shot.
But he’s still up front with the officers. No gun in his hand. No freedom. Of course. What am I thinking?
“I swear I’m coming for you. Remember that!”
Reporters shift to the side, clearing a straight line of sight between us. All their cameras swing toward my face.
“You are mine!” Alan roars with everything he has, veins bulging on his temples, eyes savage and locked on me. “Mine!”
He’s not the calm, calculating Alan I once knew. He’s not a snake waiting to strike. His scream just confirms he’s changed into something feral. A wild animal.
“Forever!”
“Shut up, it’s all your fault! True love my ass!” Amy screams and tries to swing at him.
Officers move fast, restraining them both, grabbing their arms and shoulders. Peter tries to pull away too, and within seconds all three of them are held tight and shoved toward the back exit. They disappear through the door as reporters shout questions no one answers.
My eyes widen. My breath catches, and the moment Alan and Amy disappear from the room, the reporters surge toward me. They push in with no space at all, almost drowning me in their bodies and their noise.
“What’s your response to Alan’s statement earlier?”
“Will you be requesting a restraining order from the court?”
Laird reacts fast. He wraps his arm around mine, shielding me from the crush. Jessy rushes to my other side, blocking the reporters who keep trying to shove closer.
We fight our way through the crowd while officers start ushering everyone toward the exits. Jessy even snaps at a few reporters to stay back.
A group of officers finally steps in to lock down the path for us.
Golden pushes through, flanked by several more officers who form a barricade around us.
All the way to the employee back exit, reporters keep chasing, shouting questions, flashing lights, trying to grab any reaction they can.
When the doors finally close behind us, only then do we get a breath that feels like actual oxygen.
“That was a mess,” Jessy says, rubbing his temples.
“I told you guys it was a bad idea to come here. You could’ve watched it on TV,” Golden mutters.
“I’m sorry. I felt like I needed closure with them,” I say. My body is still trembling. Fear crawls up my neck and settles there.
“Yeah. Well, now he’s sworn he’s coming after you.
I suggest you file a restraining order after this.
Not just for you. For your family too. Just to be safe,” Golden says as he holds the door to the employee parking lot.
Laird’s car sits in Golden’s reserved space. Only for today, he lets us use it.
“Yeah. We’ll do that next week,” Laird says.
“Good luck,” Golden nods.
Jessy stays by the door. He shakes his head once, frustrated but still gentle. “Go ahead. I’m waiting for our PR manager to give a statement upstairs.”
“Thank you, Jessy,” I say.
Laird and I hurry to the car. We get in, he starts the engine, and I sink into the seat. I keep exhaling, trying to loosen the tightness in my chest. I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, but my pulse won’t slow down.
“You okay?” Laird asks.
“No. I think I’m a mess right now.” I don’t bother lying. Even though I try to believe him, even though I tell myself Alan can’t hurt us anymore, my chest stays tight.
“Wanna talk about it?” Laird asks, stroking my cheek.
I take a long breath before I speak. The silence stretches until I finally let it spill.
“Twenty years, Laird. Alan could come after us in twenty years. And all the people he knows. Didn’t you see his eyes when he said that? He won’t even be fifty when he gets out.” A cold realization hits me, and I gasp. “This might not be over.”
“Baby, whether it’s twenty or fifty years, he’s not gonna touch us. We’ll request a restraining order. And if we have to, we’ll make sure our kid has protection,” he says, steady and calm.
“You think his grudge can last twenty years?” I ask, squeezing his hand.
“I doubt it. Nobody holds on to something like that forever.” He rubs my cheek again, his other hand tightening around mine. “We’re gonna be fine as long as we stick together.”
His emerald eyes lock on mine. My face reflected in that soft light, and it reminds me that I can rely on him, that I can trust him.
“Yeah, you’re right. Together.” I nod and smile a little. He kisses my hand for a moment before placing our intertwined hands on his thigh.
I may not know how life unfolds from here, but I know one thing. Laird and I will face it side by side. We’ll protect our family together. He smiles back, and the car rolls out of the parking lot, carrying us toward whatever the future holds.