Duke's arraignment was a nightmare. The prosecutor painted him as a violent criminal who'd gotten away with murder for seventeen years. The judge denied bail, citing flight risk and the severity of the charges.
Murder. First degree. Premeditated.
Connor's testimony had been damning. He'd stood in that courtroom, hand on a Bible, and lied through his perfect teeth about what happened that night. About Duke attacking their father in a rage. About Connor trying to stop him. About the cold, calculated way Duke had disposed of the body.
Valentina sat in the gallery, watching Duke's face as his brother destroyed him. Duke didn't react. Didn't shout or curse or try to defend himself. He just sat there, stone-faced, as if he'd expected this all along.
As if he'd already given up.
"Thirty days
