Throne of Truth

by Pepper Winters

  Once I was dressed, I hopped into a barred minivan and was driven to court where I ended up sitting in a holding cell for two hours. A kind-faced elderly guard took pity on my growling stomach—brought on by hunger but mostly stress—and delivered a sandwich complete with mayo, mustard, and roasted chicken.

  Nothing had ever tasted so good.

  I didn’t have access to a clock, but noise slowly gathered as more prisoners arrived for their court time. I eavesdropped on the guard’s discussions about who was next on the roll call.

  The drone of conversation and the scuffing of feet above in the courtroom gave a perfect backdrop for my mind to drift and contemplate.

  This was the first break from the monotony of jail in four weeks.

  I hadn’t been allowed visitors, and Larry and Elle hadn’t been permitted to call.

  Some stupid rule about preventing tampering of evidence now I’d been granted a court date. I hadn’t had any other visitors, but I had enjoyed one phone call from a very pissed off chief of police. Not that the prison would ever know it was him. He’d called from an unknown number and given a fake name on a cell-phone handed to me by a guard on his payroll.

  He’d pulled strings to talk to me, despite the risks.

  He’d heard about Patrick Blake agreeing to preside over my case as the judge. He’d also noticed Larry digging for dirt—just like we expected.

  The conversation hadn’t lasted long and had been layered with cryptic connotations to get around anyone listening.

  Those few sentences echoed in my head as a prisoner in a baby blue tuxedo was escorted from a cell for his turn at professing his innocence and begging for a second chance amongst the rest of corrupted civilization.

  “Everett. I hear you’re about to head to the slaughter pen.”

  I gripped the phone tighter. “If you mean finally revealing the truth then yes, you heard right.”

  “Enjoy your last words before they throw away the key.” He chuckled, but it layered with blackness. “Who knows? Perhaps, they’ll put you out of your misery and grant the death penalty.”

  “Funny.” I laughed back, matching his tone. “If I were you, I’d stay away from that party. I have no intention of keeping my mouth shut this time.”

  “You fucking—”

  “Ah ah, language, Arnie.” I grinned so hard it almost broke my face. Tormenting him like he’d tormented me for years felt so fucking good. “Thanks for calling to wish me luck, but the next time we talk, I’ll be free, and you’ll be ruined.”

  The shot of pure energy at hanging up on him raced through me now.

  I pictured him spitting red and throwing furniture around like a demented gorilla. Hopefully, the stress of what I might say in court and the anger at not being able to control me anymore would give him an aneurysm or heart attack.

  “Everett?” A guard appeared in the hallway. Holding cages decorated either side—some filled, some empty with awaiting inmates.

  I stood, moving toward the bars, waiting for him to let me out of this damn zoo. “That’s me.”

  “You’re up.” Striding forward, he pulled out a keychain, inserted a key, and hollered to another guard to press unlock at the same time as he twisted the deadbolt. Everything was so minutely controlled, as if I’d commit murder right here beneath the courtroom surrounded by police.

  The moment it was open, he held up silver handcuffs and waited until I pushed my arms forward for him to shackle me.

  I cringed against the cold metal but kept my head fucking high.

  Once pinioned, I stalked forward in my second-hand suit, walking beside the guard instead of behind him. Filled with conviction of truth, drowning in worry of failure, I told myself to stand tall and be ready to accept whatever happened.

  I was innocent, not guilty.

  And after today, I would be free for the rest of my goddamn life.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Elle

  I WASN’T ON trial, but I’d never been so terribly nervous.

  The jurors sat in their little tiered stands glowering at Larry as he sat proudly beside Penn. Dad had argued with me not to be seen at the trial. That it would be bad PR for Belle Elle.

  I’d hugged him and told him I loved him then told him—in the nicest possible way—that he couldn’t stop me from being there for Penn, and he might as well get over it.

  I loved Penn.

  I was here for Penn.

  I loved my company too, but if he forced me to choose...well, it was probably best not to make me.

  I stared at the back of Penn’s head from where I sat in the rows designated for family. The courtroom was basic in its build with harsh wooden barricades and pews. The bench I sat on had already flattened my ass, and we hadn’t even started yet.

  Fleur crossed her legs beside me, reaching for my hand as a door banged loudly and hate filled my heart instead of love.

  Greg.

  He marched with playboy grace, dressed in a similar looking suit to Penn. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, keeping his nose high and arrogance wrapped tight around him.

  He followed the guard escorting him until they stopped at an identical table next to Penn and Larry, holding out his hands to be uncuffed.

  While the officer freed him, tucking the silver handcuffs back onto his belt, Greg’s lawyer placed her satchel on the desk and pulled out documents relating to today.

  I disliked her immediately.

  Not because she represented my nemesis but because she was a hardnosed woman with hair tied so tight, her eyes turned cat-like with red lipstick smeared like blood across her mouth.

  She looked like a weasel who wasn’t afraid to fight dirty and tear off a few body parts to win.

  Sharing a few whispered words with his lawyer, Greg took his seat, his gaze catching mine.

  He flinched before straightening his shoulders and giving me a smirk. He waved a little, mouthing, “Hi, Elle,” before his lawyer grabbed his shoulder and spun him to face the front.

  I wanted to leap over the small wooden wall separating witnesses from accused and wring his damn neck. Not for what he’d done to me but for what he’d done to Penn.

  Another door banged, and a judge arrived, climbing up to his podium in a regal robe. His black attire made my heart hammer.

  “All rise for honorable Patrick Blake.”

  The court rose as one.

  There weren’t many people here—mainly court appointed reporters and the odd colleague from Belle Elle being nosy rather than supportive. I was glad and disappointed that the pews weren’t full of people waiting to hear the truth. Glad because what if we all failed? What if the long nights of research and evidence gathering wouldn’t be enough to save Penn from this bullshit charge? And disappointed because what if we did and he walked out of here a free man? No one would see honesty win over corruption or know how hard the battle had been.

  The victory of winning over men who believed they were better than everyone would be so, so sweet but the failure would be so, so bitter.

  “You may be seated.”

  The court sat in perfect synchronicity.

  I stroked my somber suit, hoping the all black affair would grant me strength. I wished I had something of Penn’s—a trinket or keepsake to clutch and give me hope.

  Not for the first time, I thought about my sapphire star and how much was now tied to that silly piece of jewelry. It had my dad’s love imbedded in it. It had Penn’s rescue and then subsequently his lies swimming in the blue gemstone.

  And now, even though it wasn’t mine anymore, and Stewie had refused to part with it, it bore witness to this thanks to the kid himself sitting beside me, his tiny fists tight in his lap; a look of utmost concentration on his face.

  He was my keepsake.

  Over the past few months, I’d learned to truly like Stewie. He was rough around the edges thanks to his prior years of running wild with his reckless older brother, but there was a sweetness too. He adored Sage and c
ouldn’t stop petting her when I took her with me to help Larry research.

  Unraveling my fear-sweaty locked-together fingers, I wiped them on my black skirt then took Stewie’s small hand in mine.

  He jumped, so focused on watching Penn and Larry as they bent to talk in hushed whispers in front of us.

  I smiled, hiding my nerves, granting him some courage at the expense of my own. “It will be fine. You’ll see.”

  His throat worked as he swallowed. He didn’t nod, merely turned his gaze back to the two men who’d saved him from a life of homelessness and settled in for the longest day of our lives.

  “Truth will prevail, Elle.” Fleur leaned close. “That creep Greg can’t get away with this—”

  “Today, we have Penn Everett versus Greg Hobson,” the court officer said loudly, narrowing his eyes at us lowly supporters. “Please remain silent. No outbursts will be permitted. No interruptions of any kind or you will be asked to leave.”

  When everyone hushed, the officer nodded at the judge. “Ready to begin.”

  The twelve jurors sat tall with importance with a rustle of clothing and murmurs of voices.

  The rest of the court settled to watch, wound with tension, stiff with hope, wishing for a quick and fair verdict.

  * * * * *

  Recess.

  How could there be such a thing?

  I didn’t want coffee and cake when the life of the man I loved hung in an uncertain balance.

  For the past hour, opening statements had been delivered. Greg’s lawyer went first, prancing around in knife-sharp stilettos, speaking to the jury as if they were dimwitted barn animals.

  According to her, Greg had been mentally abused in his childhood. He’d been brainwashed by his father to believe he would end up marrying me and inheriting it all. When he wanted to travel the world after he finished college, he claimed his dad told him not to go. Otherwise, another man might steal our arrangement and my heart.

  I burned through so many calories sitting through such filth.

  Steve was a good man, and if he’d lied to his son about winning my hand, then I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. But I had a sneaking suspicion if he was here, he’d be as mortified as I was about the lies Greg spread.

  Greg painted a picture of a tireless worker who would do anything for Belle Elle, but in the same breath, he came across as a brokenhearted lover who only wanted a second chance with me away from the influences of the company.

  He claimed I went with him willingly.

  That I wore chains and let him hit me all because I wanted what he had to offer. I wanted to be with him because that sort of thing turned me on.

  Please.

  Not for the first time, I wished Steve and Dad had come to bear witness—to finally see the games Greg loved to play, and they’d been so oblivious of. I understood why Steve wasn’t here—he loved his son, but he couldn’t stand by and watch two children he’d help raise battle in court. And I appreciated why Dad wouldn’t step foot in the court because he fussed over Belle Elle as if it was his wife and needed mollycoddling while this nightmare carried on.

  Greg pouted for the jury, saying how happy we’d been, only for our romance to be destroyed when Penn swooped in and claimed me for himself. He came across far too convincing.

  I was glad I hadn’t had anything to eat because I would’ve thrown up.

  Bastard.

  Larry’s opening statement had been short and to the point. That the accusations were false. That Greg had kidnapped me and Penn had rescued me. The end.

  The jury fazed out a little, hearing the same rebuttal most of us had heard on the news or TV once upon a time.

  I squirmed in my seat, wanting to leap to my feet and beg the jury to listen to the girl who’d been there, lived it. Prove to them that I loved Penn, not Greg. It had never been Greg. Penn had ruined me for all other men even when I didn’t know his name.

  But Larry had sucked up their attention the moment he’d said, “What is on trial today isn’t if Penn went to that cabin with the intention of murder but whether or not the chief of police, Arnold Twig, has been using Mr. Everett for his own son’s misdemeanors for years.”

  The judge had come alive, rapping with his little hammer. “Stick to the case at hand, Mr. Barns. We’re here to discuss the aggravated assault and attempted murder charges—not some fictitious witch-hunt on a respected police officer.”

  Even though Dad was friends with Patrick Blake, we wouldn’t earn any special treatment. Which was a good thing and a bad thing. I was glad it would be fair for both parties but was sick of evil managing to hoodwink good far too often.

  Greg had snickered, pleased Larry had been told off.

  Penn stiffened, his shoulders high, begging me to massage away his stress if only I was allowed to lean forward and put my hands on him.

  I’d probably be arrested for touching the defendant.

  I’d sat on my fingers, turning my attention from the man who turned my heart molten to Larry.

  He’d merely smiled at the judge with his hands crossed politely. “It’s all linked, sir. And I can prove it.”

  Goosebumps darted down my spine for the fiftieth time since he’d said that. My mind snapped out of the last few hours in court, slapping me back into the present.

  Sitting on plastic seats outside the courtroom, holding a flimsy cup of coffee thanks to Fleur shoving it in my hands, I hoped and prayed that Greg would do the right thing.

  I would’ve given anything to speak with him. To find out what his decision was and if Penn would be free or convicted.

  There must be a way.

  “Court resumes in five minutes.” An employee stuck his head into the hallway where we gathered beneath monolithic arches and portraits of dead judges.

  Minglers stood, gathering handbags and finishing coffee dregs.

  “Ready?” I smiled bright as Stewie climbed to his feet, shuffling toward the double doors where we’d endure yet more torture while waiting for Penn to be freed.

  He shrugged, his eyes large and worried. “I guess so.”

  Fleur and I exchanged looks.

  My arm found its way over Stewie’s shoulders, hugging him close. “It will all work out. You’ll see.”

  He wriggled under my embrace but didn’t push me away. He wore the suit Penn had bought from Belle Elle—a smart little man ready to battle for his friend. “I dunno. Shit happens.”

  I didn’t reprimand him for his language.

  Because he was right.

  We might have every truth and honesty on our side, but at the end of the day...shit happened.

  And there was nothing we could do about it.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Penn

  SMUG FUCKING BASTARD.

  Greg sat next to his zombie of a lawyer, not even bothering to hide his arrogance.

  Larry prowled in front, speaking to the court, blocking me from trying to kill Greg with my eyes.

  My gaze met Larry’s from the witness stand, remembering this was my time to be cordial and well-spoken, not fuming with fury at the bastard who’d stolen another five months of my life. Five months away from Elle. Five months away from happiness.

  Larry interrupted my hate. “In your own words, can you describe that night in question?”

  That night.

  What night?

  Oh yeah, he’d been talking about the charity gala. I sat up straight, glancing at the jury with a soft smile. “Ever since my success, I’ve given what I now have to those who don’t have anything. I know what it’s like to have nothing, and it’s a driving force of mine to give them a chance like another gave one to me.”

  I gave Larry a look crammed full of gratitude. It might be years since he’d taken me in, but when I thought about what he’d given me, motherfucking tears almost came to my eyes.

  “So the event was your charity?” Larry asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What is it called?”


  Shit.

  I glanced at Elle. I hadn’t told her this part. Would she think I was an idiot? I’d gone through so many names for many months. After the penny stock I’d invested in hit an all-time high—going from five cents a share to seventy-five dollars in a matter of months—a majority of the profits were reinvested into the stock, gradually buying more and more until I became the main shareholder of a company that recently got bought out by the CIA for an undisclosed, obscene figure.

  After that success, I couldn’t just let the money sit there.

  I was set for life.

  I might as well help others as well as myself.

  I knew I wanted to help people but didn’t have a clue what to call the charity.

  I’d discounted the more generic names like Homeless No More. Or Roof Over Your Head. Things that would say what the charity entailed. But the charity wouldn’t have existed without Larry’s faith in me and Elle’s ability to reach into my chest that night and start my heart beating for other things.

  Things like her.

  Things I could never deserve unless I got my shit together.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s called Chocolate Runaway.”

  Chocolate for that kiss.

  Runaway because if she hadn’t, we would never have met and my life would be so fucking different.

  I might not be sitting here on trial, but then again, I might never have gotten free from the last arrest because I wouldn’t have had the gumption to take Larry up on his offer.

  I wouldn’t have been ready to fight because I didn’t have anything to fight for. And I definitely wouldn’t have taken him up on his offer to stay in his house and obey his rules. I would’ve run back to the life I knew, not thinking I deserved anything better.

  Larry hid his smile. He’d given me such a ribbing when I came home that day with the name registered and proud as fucking punch. I noticed some of the jurors smiling while others rolled their eyes.

  My hands curled. “It’s personal. I stand by the name just like I stand by the millions of donations the charity has been able to provide.”

  Larry nodded. “It’s an honorable achievement.”