She Lied, He Died; The Truth Was Her Weapon, But Someone Had To Pay (eBook, ePUB)
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She walked into the courtroom like she owned the place. Chin high, eyes sharp, a hurricane wrapped in silk. She had the whole world fooled. A saint in a villain's skin. Or was it the other way around? People whispered, watched, waited. They wanted a show. She gave them one.The man in the defendant's chair didn't blink. Didn't move. He sat there, hands folded, staring straight ahead. Dead man walking. Everybody knew it. Even him. The air thick with judgment. His pulse steady. A soldier, once. A protector. Now a target. He wasn't supposed to end up here. But she pointed a finger, and here he was...
She walked into the courtroom like she owned the place. Chin high, eyes sharp, a hurricane wrapped in silk. She had the whole world fooled. A saint in a villain's skin. Or was it the other way around? People whispered, watched, waited. They wanted a show. She gave them one.
The man in the defendant's chair didn't blink. Didn't move. He sat there, hands folded, staring straight ahead. Dead man walking. Everybody knew it. Even him. The air thick with judgment. His pulse steady. A soldier, once. A protector. Now a target. He wasn't supposed to end up here. But she pointed a finger, and here he was.
The judge, a relic of a man, cleared his throat. The room fell silent. The prosecutor stood, all righteous fury wrapped in a cheap suit. He had the confidence of a man who thought he'd already won. Maybe he had. Maybe the game was rigged from the start. She played her part well, after all. The perfect victim. The perfect liar.
Outside, cameras flashed. The world wanted blood. They smelled a scandal, and scandals sell. They didn't care about truth. Truth is boring. Lies? Lies make headlines. She knew that. Used it. Wore it like perfume. She spoke, and they listened. Hung onto every syllable like it was gospel.
His lawyer tried. Really tried. Pushed, pulled, fought. Showed evidence, asked questions, poked holes. But her words? They cut deeper. No scars, no bruises, nothing to touch. Just a story. A perfect, rehearsed, deadly story. And the jury drank it in. Hook, line, execution.
She sat there, unshaken. Calm. Beautiful. Dangerous. The picture of innocence. Or revenge. Or whatever people wanted her to be. She wasn't sweating. He was. He knew what was coming. You could see it in his eyes. He was strong, once. Untouchable. But even the strongest fall when the right lie is whispered.
The gavel slammed down. The sentence was read. Gasps. Murmurs. Some cheered, some wept. Some just sat there, stunned. But her? She smiled. Just for a second. A flicker. A shadow passing over a face carved from ice. She won. He lost.
Truth? Fiction? Didn't matter. Only the story mattered. And her story won.
As they led him away, he turned. Just once. Looked at her. Looked through her. And she? She didn't even blink.
The man in the defendant's chair didn't blink. Didn't move. He sat there, hands folded, staring straight ahead. Dead man walking. Everybody knew it. Even him. The air thick with judgment. His pulse steady. A soldier, once. A protector. Now a target. He wasn't supposed to end up here. But she pointed a finger, and here he was.
The judge, a relic of a man, cleared his throat. The room fell silent. The prosecutor stood, all righteous fury wrapped in a cheap suit. He had the confidence of a man who thought he'd already won. Maybe he had. Maybe the game was rigged from the start. She played her part well, after all. The perfect victim. The perfect liar.
Outside, cameras flashed. The world wanted blood. They smelled a scandal, and scandals sell. They didn't care about truth. Truth is boring. Lies? Lies make headlines. She knew that. Used it. Wore it like perfume. She spoke, and they listened. Hung onto every syllable like it was gospel.
His lawyer tried. Really tried. Pushed, pulled, fought. Showed evidence, asked questions, poked holes. But her words? They cut deeper. No scars, no bruises, nothing to touch. Just a story. A perfect, rehearsed, deadly story. And the jury drank it in. Hook, line, execution.
She sat there, unshaken. Calm. Beautiful. Dangerous. The picture of innocence. Or revenge. Or whatever people wanted her to be. She wasn't sweating. He was. He knew what was coming. You could see it in his eyes. He was strong, once. Untouchable. But even the strongest fall when the right lie is whispered.
The gavel slammed down. The sentence was read. Gasps. Murmurs. Some cheered, some wept. Some just sat there, stunned. But her? She smiled. Just for a second. A flicker. A shadow passing over a face carved from ice. She won. He lost.
Truth? Fiction? Didn't matter. Only the story mattered. And her story won.
As they led him away, he turned. Just once. Looked at her. Looked through her. And she? She didn't even blink.
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