I blew out a slow breath. “There were screams coming from inside.”

Lawrence stared at me, and I knew the hard hit was coming. “Tell me—what did you see when you opened the door?”

Fuck.

My heart was racing as the image popped into my mind. I let out a hard breath to steady myself. I had to answer and do so in a calm manner. The problem was that calm could be found nowhere within me in that moment.

My muscles flexed, ready to jump out of the stupid box and run to Adam so I could slam my fist in his f**king face. I wanted to reenact the events of that day in order to show the judge what little I’d done to him compared to what he did to her.

“Lila was on the ground with him on top of her.”

The prosecutor continued to lead me on. “And what was he doing to her?”

I knew where his questions were going—I’d been in his place and tried to prepare myself for them. It didn’t make it any easier. I could anticipate his questions, but not the searing emotions they evoked.

“He had her hands pinned above her head. Her shirt was ripped open, and he was pushing her skirt up.” My whole body was shaking, rage enveloping me.

The prosecutor stared at me, begging me to cool down. “What made it different from sexual play?”

My teeth mashed together as I fought for control. “Her face was covered in blood.”

I forced myself to stop the words “from him hitting her,” because I knew the defense would object.

After a while, the prosecutor glanced at the jury and back at me, then sighed. I wasn’t making a very good impression due to my anger seeping out.

“Tell me, why are you so agitated being in this room today?”

A good question. It would make the jury understand why. Who wouldn’t be angry, sitting across from the man who almost took your world away?

“Because he…” I couldn’t say his name, and I was so close to calling him a name the judge wouldn’t approve of “…hurt Lila. He tried to take my wife away from me. My love and reason for being.”

I took great pride in the murderous look that flashed on Adam’s face after calling Lila by her marital title. Lawrence smiled and continued on.

After a grueling fifteen minutes and more than one warning from the judge, the defense took over.

“Mr. Thorne, you and Delilah Thorne weren’t married when you first encountered Mr. Mitchell, were you?”

“No.”

“Neither were you engaged, is that correct?”

“Yes.” If I thought answering the prosecution was bad, it was nothing compared to the “yes” and “no” answers for the defense.

“Were you living together?”

“Yes.”

“But you still retained separate residences?”

“Yes.”

“And that is because your employer did not allow fraternization between its employees, correct?”

“Yes.” I shifted in my seat, but made sure it wasn’t noticeable.

“Is it true that you destroyed all the drywall in your entryway in a fit of anger?”

“Objection,” Lawrence called out. “Irrelevant to the case.”

The defense attorney didn’t flinch. “Mr. Thorne also has a history of violence. I am strictly trying to show that, your Honor.”

“What relevancy does it pose?” the judge asked, his voice clipped in annoyance at the defense attorney. Lila was right—the judge didn’t like him.

“That Delilah Thorne is the instigator of violent reactions.”

The judge thought on it for a moment. “I’ll allow it. Please answer the question, Mr. Thorne.”

I sighed, unhappy with the twist. “No.”

“No, you did not destroy your entryway.”

“Yes, I did, but not—”

“You blamed it all on your coworker, Delilah Palmer, isn’t that right?” He cut me off, keeping me from elaborating.

“No.”

“Weren’t you angry at her?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve shown us your anger today. Have you ever hit Delilah?”

“No.” My gut was tied in knots at even the thought of it, and I somehow managed to keep from flinching.

“Never?”

“Never.”

“The defense rests.” He wore a smug look as he moved back to his seat.

The prosecutor stood, and I knew they wanted to redirect after some of the questions posed by the defense.

“Mr. Thorne, you destroyed your entryway, but not in a fit of anger?”

“I tore down the drywall in a fit of despair after separating myself from Lila in a futile effort to keep her safe from a mob boss who wants me dead—because I prosecuted his daughter, and she’s in jail.” I sat up a little straighter.

“And why were you angry with Lila?”

“Because ever since my wife and child were murdered, I didn’t want to fall in love. I didn’t want to care about anyone. If I cared, they could kill them as well. But, Lila worked her way inside me without me even knowing it, and it made me angry at her for reviving feelings in my dead existence. I didn’t want to love her, but in the end, I couldn’t fight fate.” My jaw tightened with each passing second, making it increasingly difficult to get the words out.

His lip twitched as he fought a smile. A quick glance to the jury confirmed that my honest and passionate answer hit many of them in the heart.

Afterward, I was led back to another room, forced to be separated from Lila again until the jury left for deliberation. It was a grueling time. Thoughts that maybe I’d feel lighter once I got it out to the jury and others knew what he’d done was a myth.

The knot in my chest was weighing me down like chains wrapped around my body, dragging me to unknown depths. I’d f**ked up, unable to control my anger. It looked bad and could undermine some of my good testimony with the jurors.

My skin itched with the need to feel it marring Adam’s flesh while simultaneously begging to be all over Lila. She was my oasis in the giant sea of f**kery.

When the bailiff came to let me out, I ran right into Lila, who was waiting for me. She threw her arms around me, and it was then peace started to settle in. The hard part was done—now it was up to twelve people.

The jury couldn’t come to a decision in the short amount of time left in the day, so we arrived at the courthouse bright and early the next morning. We didn’t have to wait long—an hour later, the jury was done deliberating. The short time could be a good sign, or a bad one. Either way, our group filed into the room and took a seat.