(Victoria)
The courtroom was colder than I expected. The air smelled like paper and old wood, nothing like the perfume and champagne I was used to. I sat at the defense table, my wrists free now but marked from the cuffs. A guard stood near the door, watching every move. I tried to hold my head high, but inside I wanted to vanish.
Across from me, the prosecutor shuffled through a stack of papers. His voice had been harsh earlier when he listed my charges: fraud, blackmail, threats, conspiracy. Each word struck like a stone. I kept my face still, pretending I was calm.
The judge entered, and everyone stood. My lawyer who was appointed to me, whispered for me to rise too, so I did. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself to stay calm. The judge was an older man, eyes intense, mouth pulled
