Chapter 9
William was three months old when Daniel’s trial started.
The media had been camped outside the courthouse for a week.
Houston’s Trial of the Century, they were calling it.
Wealthy socialite husband.
Pregnant wife.
Mistress.
Murder for hire.
It had everything.
I’d been dreading this day.
Dreading having to sit in the same room as Daniel.
Dreading having to relive every terrible moment.
Dreading his lawyer’s questions.
Dreading seeing that cold smile again.
But when I walked into the courtroom that morning, holding William in his carrier, something had shifted inside me.
I wasn’t the scared girl from the dining room.
I wasn’t the crying woman from the hospital.
I was a mother.
And I was ready to close this chapter of my life forever.
The prosecution’s case was airtight.
They played the tapes.
The jury heard Daniel plan my murder.
Heard him plan my son’s murder.
Heard him plan to kill his own brother.
Heard him call us all disposable.
They called Marcus.
He testified through tears.
Told the jury how Daniel had owned him.
How he’d had no choice.
They called Vanessa via video from Seattle.
She told her story.
The lies.
The manipulation.
The night in the dining room.
She didn’t make excuses.
She owned what she’d done.
And the jury believed her.
They called the lab tech.
The private investigator.
Mendez.
One by one, they built a wall of evidence so high Daniel could never climb over it.
Then it was my turn.
I took the stand.
The DA walked me through everything.
The night of the attack.
The fake DNA test.
The courtroom threat.
The warehouse tapes.
I told it all.
Calmly.
Honestly.
No hysterics.
No drama.
Just the truth.
Then Daniel’s lawyer got up.
He was a different lawyer this time.
The slick car-commercial guy had quit after the warehouse tapes came out.
This one was older.
Tired.
Like even he didn’t want to be here.
He tried.
God knows he tried.
He tried to say I’d manipulated Vanessa.
That I’d paid Mendez to entrap Daniel.
That the tapes were doctored.
That I was a rich, spoiled girl who’d destroyed her husband because he’d cheated on her.
But the jury wasn’t buying it.
They looked at me.
They looked at William, sleeping in his carrier in the front row.
They looked at Daniel, sitting at the defense table, glaring at everyone.
And they didn’t believe a word the lawyer said.
The trial lasted two weeks.
The jury deliberated for four hours.
When they came back, the courtroom was packed.
Media.
Family.
Interested onlookers.
I sat between my parents.
Holding both their hands.
Daniel sat at the defense table.
Alone.
His lawyer had tried to get him to take a plea deal.
Life without parole in exchange for avoiding the death penalty.
Daniel had refused.
Said he’d be acquitted.
Said the jury would see the truth.
The foreman stood.
Held the verdict form.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” the judge asked.
“We have, Your Honor.”
“Please read it.”
The foreman looked at Daniel.
Then at me.
“On the count of conspiracy to commit capital murder… we, the jury, find the defendant… guilty.”
A murmur ran through the courtroom.
Daniel didn’t move.
“On the count of solicitation of capital murder… guilty.”
Another murmur.
“On the count of aggravated assault against a pregnant individual… guilty.”
Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
On all twenty-three counts.
Daniel still didn’t move.
But I saw his hand.
On the table.
Clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
The judge thanked the jury.
Set sentencing for the following week.
Banged her gavel.
“Court adjourned.”
Daniel stood.
Two marshals moved to cuff him.
He looked at me.
No smile this time.
No threats.
Just pure, unadulterated hate.
And then he mouthed one final word.
Bitch.
The marshals led him away.
He was gone.
My mother hugged me.
My father hugged me.
Arthur clapped me on the shoulder.
Reporters shouted questions.
But I didn’t hear any of it.
I looked down at William.
He’d woken up.
He was smiling at me.
Toothless.
Perfect.
Happy.
And I knew.
It was really over.
The sentencing was a formality.
The DA asked for the death penalty.
The defense begged for life.
Cited Daniel’s difficult childhood.
His mother’s testimony.
His potential for rehabilitation.
The jury deliberated for two days.
They came back with life without the possibility of parole.
No death penalty.
But Daniel would never breathe free air again.
He would die in prison.
Alone.
Forgotten.
And that, I decided, was a worse punishment than death.
After the sentencing, Eleanor Carter found me outside the courtroom.
She looked older than she had at the hospital.
Fragile.
Broken.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For everything.”
“I know,” I said.
She looked at William.
“Can I… can I see him? Just for a minute?”
I hesitated.
Then I unbuckled William from his carrier.
Held him out.
Eleanor took him carefully.
Like he might break.
Tears ran down her face as she looked at him.
“He looks like you,” she whispered. “Thank God. He looks exactly like you.”
She handed him back.
“Goodbye, Olivia,” she said. “Good luck. You and that boy… you deserve every happiness.”
“Goodbye, Eleanor.”
May you like
She walked away.
I never saw her again.
