Chapter 8
Six months later.
Brandon’s trial was set to begin.
The media had been building it up for months.
*“THE BILLIONAIRE BAKER VS. THE WOULD-BE KILLER.”*
*“CHICAGO’S TRIAL OF THE CENTURY.”*
Hannah had been dreading this day.
She would have to sit in a courtroom, feet away from the man who had tried to kill her, and relive every terrible moment of their marriage.
She would have to be cross-examined by Brandon’s new lawyer—a public defender who had nothing to lose and would try to paint her as the villain one last time.
Clara had tried to talk her into taking a plea deal for Brandon.
“Fifteen years,” Clara had said. “No trial. No testimony. No cameras. It’s done.”
But Hannah had refused.
“No,” she had said. “He needs to be found guilty by a jury of his peers. He needs to hear twelve people say ‘guilty’ out loud. And the world needs to see that even rich women get justice when men try to hurt them.”
So here she was.
Monday morning.
The Cook County Criminal Courthouse.
Hundreds of reporters lined the steps.
Cameras flashed as Hannah stepped out of her car.
She wore a simple black dress. No jewelry. No makeup.
She didn’t want to look like a billionaire.
She wanted to look like what she was—a woman who had survived.
Jake walked beside her, silent and strong.
Clara was on her other side, going over last-minute details.
Inside the courtroom, it was standing room only.
Brandon was brought in by two bailiffs.
He looked terrible.
He had lost thirty pounds in jail. His hair was long and greasy. He had a tattoo of a swastika on his neck that he had gotten in lockup. His eyes were dead.
When he saw Hannah, he smiled.
It was a cold, evil smile.
It sent a shiver down her spine.
The judge called the court to order.
The prosecution—an assistant DA named Maria Gonzalez—gave her opening statement first.
She laid out the case clearly.
The embezzlement.
The lies.
The mistresses.
The 52 phone calls from the ER.
The police report for elder abandonment.
The fake TV interview.
And finally—the attempted murder.
She called Todd Miller first.
Todd, who had taken the plea deal and was now serving two years’ probation, testified clearly and honestly.
He told the jury how Brandon had threatened him.
How he had paid him five thousand dollars.
How he had waited outside the bakery on his motorcycle.
How he had hit Hannah.
How Brandon had later tried to frame her for it.
He cried on the stand.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Parker,” he said, looking directly at her. “I’m so sorry. I was scared. I was stupid. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I can.”
Hannah nodded at him.
She had already forgiven him.
Next, the prosecution called the women.
Jessica Miller went first.
She told the jury about the two years of lies.
The fake dead wife story.
The abortion.
The promises of marriage in Italy.
She showed the text messages. The photos. The hotel receipts.
Then Tiffany. Then the waitress. Then the college student.
One by one, they told their stories.
By the time they were done, half the jury was crying.
The other half looked ready to kill Brandon themselves.
Then it was Hannah’s turn.
She walked to the stand.
She raised her right hand.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
She sat down.
Maria Gonzalez walked her through everything, slowly and carefully.
She asked about the founding of Summit.
She asked about meeting Brandon.
She asked why she had hidden her identity.
“I was tired of being Hannah Parker the billionaire,” Hannah said. “Every man I met only wanted my money. Every friend only wanted a favor. I just wanted to be Hannah—the girl who baked bread. When Brandon told me he loved me for who I was, not what I had… I believed him. I wanted to believe him. So I let him think I was just a poor baker. I wanted to see if he would love me anyway.”
“Did he?” Maria asked.
Hannah looked directly at Brandon.
“No. He loved the idea of me. The quiet, obedient wife who would cook his mother’s food, wash his clothes, and never complain. The wife he could humiliate in front of his friends to make himself feel big. The moment I stood up for myself? The moment I stopped being his doormat? That’s when he decided to destroy me. And when that didn’t work? He decided to kill me.”
She told the jury about the accident.
About waking up in the street, the pain in her leg, the blood.
About the 52 missed calls.
About Brandon’s voice on the phone, yelling at her to get up and cook.
About him calling the police to report her for abandonment.
About him threatening to leave her with nothing.
She showed them the cast. The scar on her calf—still pink and raised, nine months later.
She told them about the audit.
About walking into Summit and firing him.
About the TV interview full of lies.
About the police station, where he had tried to frame her for her own attempted murder.
When she finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the courtroom.
Even the judge wiped his glasses.
Now it was the defense’s turn.
Brandon’s lawyer—an overworked, underpaid man named Carl Reed—stood up.
He didn’t have much.
His whole case boiled down to one thing: Hannah Parker is rich and powerful. She paid everyone to lie. Poor Brandon is the victim.
He cross-examined Todd first, trying to make him look like a career criminal who would say anything for a deal.
Todd held his own.
Then Reed went after the women, implying they were all just gold diggers who had found out Brandon was married to a billionaire and decided to cash in.
The women stood their ground.
Finally, it was Hannah’s turn.
Reed walked slowly toward the witness stand.
He smiled.
It was not a nice smile.
“Ms. Parker,” he said. “You are a very wealthy woman. Correct?”
“I am.”
“Net worth of approximately eight hundred and twenty million dollars?”
“Something like that.”
“Enough money to pay Todd Miller five thousand dollars to lie. Enough to pay four women tens of thousands each to make up stories about my client. Enough to pay off the auditors, the police, anyone you needed to, to destroy a man who dared to leave you.”
“Objection!” Clara shouted. “Speculation!”
“Sustained,” the judge said.
Reed didn’t care.
He had planted the seed.
“Ms. Parker… isn’t it true that you never loved Brandon? That you married him as an experiment? To see how long a ‘regular guy’ would stay with a poor baker before he cheated? That you controlled every part of his life, pulling the strings like a puppet master, and when he finally grew a backbone and tried to leave, you destroyed him?”
“No,” Hannah said calmly. “That is not true.”
“Isn’t it true that you checked yourself into a psychiatric hospital in 2018 for ‘severe delusions and paranoid personality disorder’? That you have a history of making up stories about people who ‘wrong’ you?”
The courtroom gasped.
Clara was on her feet.
“OBJECTION! That is a complete mischaracterization of the medical record! Ms. Parker was treated for work-related burnout and exhaustion! There is no diagnosis of delusions or personality disorder!”
The judge banged his gavel.
“Mr. Reed! That is highly inappropriate and untrue. If you make one more statement like that without evidence, I will hold you in contempt. Do you understand?”
Reed backed down.
But again—the seed was planted.
He had nothing else.
He sat down.
The prosecution didn’t even need a rebuttal.
The case was that strong.
The next day, the jury began deliberations.
Hannah waited in the courthouse cafeteria.
She didn’t pace. She didn’t bite her nails.
She just drank coffee and waited.
She had done everything she could.
She had told the truth.
Whatever happened now, she could live with it.
Four hours later, the bailiff came in.
“Verdict’s in.”
They walked back into the courtroom.
Brandon was brought in.
He looked even worse than before.
The jury filed in.
None of them would look at Brandon.
Hannah’s heart was pounding.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” the judge asked.
The foreman stood up.
“We have, Your Honor.”
“On count one—conspiracy to commit murder. How do you find?”
“Guilty.”
Brandon flinched.
“Count two—attempted murder. How do you find?”
“Guilty.”
“Count three—aggravated battery causing great bodily harm. How do you find?”
“Guilty.”
“Counts four through ten—felony fraud, embezzlement, perjury, and obstruction of justice. How do you find?”
“Guilty. On all counts.”
The courtroom erupted.
Reporters ran for the doors.
Brandon stood up, screaming.
“THIS IS BULLSHIT! YOU WERE ALL PAID! I’M INNOCENT! INNOCENT!”
The bailiffs grabbed him.
They dragged him away.
He was still screaming as the doors closed behind him.
The judge banged his gavel repeatedly to restore order.
When things calmed down, he looked at Hannah.
“Ms. Parker,” he said. “On behalf of the court, I want to apologize for what you have been through. No one should ever have to endure what you endured at the hands of Mr. Cole. You have shown incredible grace and courage throughout this entire process. You are an inspiration to women everywhere. This court thanks you.”
Hannah stood up.
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
She walked out of the courtroom.
The cameras were waiting.
But she didn’t stop to talk.
She walked straight to her car.
Jake opened the door.
She got in.
“Where to, Ms. Parker?”
Hannah leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
May you like
“Home, Jake. Take me home.”
For the first time in four years, she was truly free.
