“My client maintains that his wife’s injuries were the result of an unfortunate domestic accident,” Ridley stated smoothly. “We are deeply concerned about the rush to judgment.”
Lauren watched the clip later that evening from the hospital break room television.
Rush to judgment.
As if Kiara’s broken ribs were impatience.
As if the flash drive were coincidence.
Ridley continued. “We will be reviewing all alleged evidence carefully. It is not uncommon in contentious marital disputes for narratives to be manipulated.”
Lauren turned the television off.
Manipulated.
The word lodged in her chest like a stone.
The arraignment was set for two days later.
Kiara insisted on attending remotely from a secure room inside the hospital. She wanted to see him.
“I need to know this is real,” she told Marissa.
Lauren stood beside her as the video feed connected.
The courtroom appeared on screen—wood-paneled walls, the judge elevated behind the bench. Derek stood beside his attorney, hands clasped loosely in front of him.
He looked composed.
He looked confident.
Until he saw Kiara’s image appear in the corner of the screen.
Something flickered across his face—brief but unmistakable.
Not remorse.
Calculation.
The prosecutor outlined the charges: aggravated assault, coercive control, attempted homicide.
The words filled the courtroom air with weight.
Ridley requested bail.
Of course he did.
The prosecutor objected immediately, citing the severity of the assault, the documented threats, and the risk of further harm.
Judge Ellen Ward, stern and measured, reviewed the file in silence for a long moment.
Then she spoke.
“Given the substantial evidence presented, bail is denied.”
The gavel struck.
The sound echoed.
Derek’s composure cracked.
He turned toward the camera—toward Kiara—and his eyes hardened.
Leave a Comment