Chapter 403
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Chapter 403:
The harsh fluorescent lights of the Manhattan Supreme Court beat down from the ceiling. The beams caught the fifteen-carat Flawless Fancy Vivid Pink diamond on Jocelyn’s left ring finger, fracturing the light and throwing blinding sparks of pink and blue across the polished mahogany tables.
Aspen Schneider was already seated at the defense table.
She wore a baggy orange jumpsuit, her wrists locked in heavy steel handcuffs with the chain secured tightly to her waist. Two female bailiffs stood directly behind her chair, their postures rigid.
Aspen’s bloodshot eyes snapped toward the gallery. Her gaze locked instantly onto the blinding pink flash on Jocelyn’s hand. The muscles in her face twitched uncontrollably. A toxic, acidic jealousy flooded her veins, twisting her features into a grotesque mask of humiliation. She opened her mouth to sneer — but the heavy wooden doors at the front of the room swung open.
𝘕e𝗐 c𝗵ар𝗍𝘦r𝘴 е𝘃еr𝗒 𝘄𝖾𝘦𝘬 𝘰n
The judge walked in. He struck his gavel against the sound block. The sharp, authoritative crack echoed through the cavernous room, commanding absolute silence.
“The State of New York versus Aspen Schneider,” the judge’s deep, booming voice announced. “Charges of felony false imprisonment and reckless endangerment. We are on the record p>
The Manhattan District Attorney stood, adjusted his silk tie, and walked to the center of the floor with the measured composure of a man who had already won.
He did not waste time with theatrics. He listed the prosecution’s evidence with surgical precision.
“Your Honor, the State submits Exhibit A,” the DA stated, sliding a flash drive across the clerk’s desk. “Unedited security footage from the Schneider estate wine cellar. Exhibit B, a sworn and notarized affidavit from the estate’s head butler, detailing the defendant’s direct orders to lock the door. Exhibit C, the victim’s medical reports from ten years ago, confirming severe claustrophobia directly resulting from the defendant’s prolonged abuse p>
At the defense table, Aspen’s high-priced lawyer turned pale. A sheen of cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
He leaned close to Aspen, his hand covering his microphone.
“The evidence chain is bulletproof,” the lawyer hissed into her ear. “If we take this to a jury, they will crucify you. You will lose p>
He gripped her forearm through the cheap orange fabric.
“You have to take the plea deal the DA offered this morning,” he said harshly. “If you refuse, you are looking at the maximum sentence. Twenty years in a maximum-security state prison p>
Aspen’s eyes widened in absolute shock. Her lungs seized.
“Are you out of your mind?” Aspen whispered hysterically, her voice cracking. “I am Aspen Schneider! I am the heiress to the Schneider family! I am not going to a federal prison with common criminals! My father will pay whatever it takes to bury this p>
The lawyer looked at her with pure, unadulterated pity. He shattered her delusion with one sentence.
“Your father’s accounts are frozen,” the lawyer stated coldly. “The Schneider family is completely bankrupt. I am only standing here today because your father sold the last piece of art he had hidden from the creditors to pay my retainer. There is no money left to save you p>
The word bankrupt hit Aspen’s chest like a physical blow.