Chapter 3: The Trial and the Shattered Heart

The day before the trial, the perpetrator contacted my lawyer. Said he wanted to settle.

My lawyer called late at night. Voice cautious. He said there was an offer on the table, but I barely listened. I wasn’t interested in money.

I couldn’t accept a settlement. No amount of cash could bring Benji back. I wanted justice, not a check.

Everything was set. I’d gathered all the evidence, prepped my testimony, braced myself for the fight ahead.

But five minutes before the hearing, I saw Samantha walk in. She was the defense attorney for the other side.

She strode into the courtroom, briefcase in hand. Eyes fixed straight ahead. My heart stopped. I felt like I was going to be sick.

I was stunned. I just stared at her, unable to move. The world tilted sideways.

Samantha, as the defense attorney, must have read the file. She must have known about Benji’s death from the start.

She had to have seen the photos. The autopsy report. She knew every detail. And she still took the case.

All the blood rushed to my head. I gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. My vision blurred with rage.

I hated her. Samantha didn’t deserve to be Benji’s mother.

I thought about all the times I’d tried to defend her, to make excuses. No more.

The perpetrator entered. Cameron walked in too. He sauntered in, sunglasses pushed up on his head, smirk on his lips. He didn’t look sorry. He didn’t look scared.

He didn’t look like a defendant. He looked like a runway model. Dressed head-to-toe in designer brands. All surface, all fake.

His suit probably cost more than my car. He flashed a grin at Samantha. I saw red.

I jumped to my feet. The table and chairs clattered. The sound echoed through the courtroom. People turned to stare. I didn’t care.

At that moment, I let go of all reason. Dignity. Pride. I charged at him like a wild animal. Punched Cameron in the face.

My fist connected with his jaw. He stumbled back, eyes wide with shock. Security rushed in. But I didn’t stop.

I tore at his clothes. I wanted to rip off his mask. I grabbed his collar, yanked at his jacket, desperate to expose the truth beneath the surface.

It was only the day before court that I learned Cameron was the hit-and-run driver. I’d been doing my best to keep my emotions in check. I wanted Cameron to face the full force of the law, but when I saw him, I just couldn’t hold it in.

The pieces had fallen into place too late. I wanted justice. But all I could think about was hurting him the way he’d hurt my family.

“Mark, calm down!” Samantha tried to stop me. She grabbed my arm, trying to pull me back. Her voice was sharp, panicked.

“I can’t calm down! Do you know he’s the one who killed your son?!” I shouted so loud my throat burned. Everyone in the room froze.

“I…” Samantha just stood there, speechless. She looked at me like she’d never seen me before. For once, she had nothing to say.

“I want him to pay with his life for my son!”

The words tumbled out, raw and desperate. I meant every one of them.

The thought that Samantha had known all along how Benji died, and still took this case—it made my heart feel like it was about to explode.

It was betrayal on a level I never thought possible. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“If it’s not me, someone else will take the case.”

She said it so calmly, like it was just another day at the office. I wanted to scream.

“Benji’s gone. I’m sad too. But the living have to move forward. Life has to go on.”

Her voice was cold. Matter-of-fact. I stared at her, stunned.

“Go on? You mean you and Cameron can go on together!”

I spat the words at her. My hands shaking with fury.

Normally, I could have broken free from Samantha’s grip. But she seemed sure I wouldn’t really hurt her, just holding onto my waist and refusing to let go.

She clung to me, nails digging into my side. I could see the fear in her eyes. But she didn’t let go.

I slapped her.

The sound echoed, sharp and ugly. The whole room went silent.

“Mark, did you just hit me?” Samantha was in disbelief. She touched her cheek, eyes wide. For a moment, she looked almost human—hurt, shocked.

The courtroom was in chaos. The hearing was suspended.

The judge banged the gavel. Security swarmed in. People shouted. I barely noticed. All I could see was Benji’s face.

I looked at the photos of Benji on my phone. Silently vowing:

I scrolled through the pictures, one by one. His smile. His eyes. The way he hugged his teddy bear. I swore to him, right then and there, I’d never stop fighting.

“Benji, Daddy will get justice for you!”

I whispered it, over and over. Like a prayer.

“Talk?” Cameron stood in front of me. His shadow blocked my view.

He towered over me, arms crossed. A smug grin on his face.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I won’t settle.”

I spat the words at him. My voice cold and flat.

Cameron actually laughed. Fury surged in me. I grabbed his collar. He leaned in close: “Go ahead, hit me. See who ends up in jail first—you or me.”

His breath was hot on my face. I wanted to break his nose. But I held back. Barely.

“You’ll never get a settlement offer from me. But guess who will? Your son’s mother.”

He waved a piece of paper in my face, taunting me. My heart dropped.

He slowly pulled a piece of paper from his bag. “Settlement offer.”

He unfolded it, careful and deliberate. I recognized Samantha’s handwriting instantly.

Samantha’s signature.

It was right there, in black ink. I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me.

My mind went blank. I couldn’t breathe.

I stared at the paper, trying to make sense of it. My hands shook so hard I almost dropped my phone.

Samantha, you don’t deserve to be a mother.

The thought rang in my head, over and over. I didn’t say it out loud. But I wanted to.

“Mark, don’t forget—Samantha’s a top lawyer. With her and the settlement agreement, do you really think I’ll go to jail?” Cameron smirked.

He leaned back, arms wide, like he’d already won. I wanted to wipe that look off his face.

“If you’ve got the guts, stab me now. But then, who’ll leave flowers at your son’s grave on holidays?”

He said it like it was a joke. My hands curled into fists. I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

“Mark, your son was an accident. If I hadn’t gone overseas, would you ever have ended up with Samantha?”

His words stung. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of a response.

I was shaking all over. Desperate to drag him down with me. But I couldn’t. My mom had already lost her grandson—she couldn’t lose me too.

I thought about my mother, sitting alone in her kitchen, crying into her coffee. I couldn’t do that to her.