Chapter 404
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Chapter 404:
Her psychological defenses collapsed entirely. Her knees went weak beneath the table. Her spine lost all rigidity and she slumped heavily against the hard wooden chair, gasping as the room spun around her.
“The Court is waiting, Counselor,” the judge barked, tapping his gavel impatiently. “Does the defendant accept the plea agreement or not p>
A dead, suffocating silence fell over the courtroom. Every pair of eyes in the gallery locked onto the former Upper East Side socialite.
Aspen’s hands shook violently against her chains. She slowly lifted her head. Her gaze bypassed the judge, bypassed her lawyer, and locked directly onto Jocelyn sitting in the front row.
Jocelyn did not look away. She sat perfectly still.
Slowly, a cold and utterly merciless smile curved the corners of her mouth — a look devoid of anger, devoid of hatred. The look a person gives a dead insect on the pavement.
A wave of absolute, crushing despair washed over Aspen. Her stomach churned with nausea. She finally understood the terrifying truth. She had completely, irreversibly lost to the stepsister she had spent her entire life stepping on.
𝗕𝗲 𝘱𝘢𝗋𝗍 of о𝗎𝗿 с𝗼𝗆𝗆un𝗂𝘵𝘆 о𝗇 g𝗮𝘭ոо𝘃еlѕ.с𝗈𝗺
“Final warning,” the judge demanded.
Aspen squeezed her eyes shut. Hot, humiliating tears spilled over her pale cheeks and dripped onto her orange collar.
“Guilty,” Aspen whispered. Her voice was so thin and broken the microphone barely picked it up. “I plead guilty p>
The court clerk’s fingers flew across the stenographer machine, permanently recording her defeat.
“The Court accepts the guilty plea,” the judge announced. He struck the gavel one last time. “Sentencing will be scheduled for the end of next month. Remand the defendant p>
As the sharp crack of the gavel faded, Jocelyn felt a massive, invisible weight lift from her chest. The suffocating boulder of her childhood trauma, the dark shadow of the wine cellar — all of it pulverized instantly to dust.
She let out a long, shaky breath. The rigid tension in her spine finally melted away, and she leaned back against the wooden bench.
Gaston felt the shift in her body immediately.
He reached out, his massive warm palm completely enveloping her cold, trembling fingers. He squeezed her hand, anchoring her to the present, then leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
“It is over,” Gaston murmured, his voice a deep, resonant vibration that sent a wave of heat down her spine. “You are free p>
Jocelyn turned her head and looked into his dark, obsessive eyes. Her own burned with unshed tears — tears of absolute relief. She squeezed his hand back and nodded firmly.
At the front of the room, the two bailiffs stepped forward. They grabbed Aspen roughly by the biceps and hauled her up from the chair to march her back to the holding cells.
As they led her past the gallery, something inside Aspen’s broken mind finally snapped.
She let out a guttural, animalistic shriek. She violently twisted her body, broke the female bailiff’s grip, and lunged directly toward the wooden railing separating the gallery from the aisle — aimed straight for Jocelyn.
Gaston’s eyes turned pitch black.