Chapter 112 Shades Of Freedom

• Jeremy POV
• The courtroom was a crucible, its oak-paneled walls and towering ceiling pressing down like a judge’s gavel, the air heavy with the musty scent of polished wood and the sharp tang of nervous sweat, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. I sat at the defendant’s table, my hands clasped tightly to still their trembling, the borrowed suit—stiff, smelling faintly of my father’s cologne—chafing against my skin, a reminder of the Morrow name that had both sheltered and cursed me. The gallery behind me buzzed with whispers, reporters and locals hungry for the next twist in the “Morrow scandal,” their eyes boring into me, but I caught Bonnie’s gaze, her presence a quiet anchor, her sling gone, her warm eyes a testament to the battles we’d endured.
• The judge’s gavel cracked, silencing the room, each sound a nail driven into the coffin of my past, my confession about Chad Tyler’s death now exposed to the world’s judgment. My heart pounded, not for the verdict, not for the fines or service I might face, but for Rachel—the woman who’d bled for me, who’d faced Celine’s gun, whose courage had pushed me to confess, whose absence was a wound deeper than any sentence could carve.