Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 101 - Chapitre 107

"He’s using the same voice, Roman. The exact same one he used when he told me what to wear to the charity dinners," I whispered, my fingers digging so hard into the fabric of Roman's jeans that my knuckles turned white.We were sitting in the front row of the gallery, the air in the courtroom smelling of old cedar and nervous sweat. Across the aisle, Marcus stood at the podium. His hands were clasped loosely in front of his pristine charcoal suit, his posture so straight and effortless you’d think he was hosting a private gallery opening instead of defending himself against twenty federal indictments."Let him talk, Scar," Roman murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against my ear as his arm wrapped tight around my waist, his thumb rubbing small, heavy circles into my hip. "The microphones here don't belong to him anymore. He can try to perform all he wants, but the script is out of his hands.""The defense expects the court to look past the sensationalized, highly emotional n

"They aren't calling it a family feud anymore, Roman. Look at the screen," I said, my thumb hovering over the glass of my phone as we sat in the dim, cramped corner of a diner three blocks from the courthouse.The television mounted above the grease-stained counter was flickering with the midday news feed. Usually, the anchors had that bright, gossipy bounce in their voices when they talked about the Reed family—the kind of tone people used when they were talking about a reality television show or a messy divorce among the wealthy. But today, the woman on the screen wasn't smiling. The background graphic behind her head didn't show a picture of me in a gala dress next to Marcus. It showed a giant, stark block diagram of the offshore network Roman had exposed yesterday, with a thick, red banner across the bottom that read: THE SYSTEM OF REED GLOBAL.

"Just breathe, Scar. Just remember to take a breath after every sentence."Roman was kneeling in front of me in the tiny, windowless side room, his hands firmly gripping my bare knees. The morning sun was trying to bleed through the frosted glass of the transom window, but it just looked like gray static. My chest was so tight it felt like someone had wrapped a steel band around my ribs, and every time I tried to swallow, my throat clicked. The court bailiff had already knocked once. The fifteen-minute recess was over. It was time for the real thing."I feel like if I open my mouth, the wrong voice is going to come out," I whispered, my fingers knotting into the rough wool of his jacket. "I keep hearing the scripts he wrote for me. The ones from the charity galas. 'Reed Global stands for integrity, family, and future.' I can still recite them by heart, Roman. What if my brain just defaults to the lie because it’s safer?""The lie isn't safer anymore," Roman said, his voice dropping in