Chapter 7
The trial took three months to begin.
Three months of therapy appointments.
Security checks.
Lawyer calls.
Quiet dinners where no one knew what to say.
Three months of Leo learning to use the stairs again without grabbing the rail until his knuckles turned white.
The first time he walked down alone, Julian cried in the kitchen where Leo could not see.
I pretended not to notice.
My mother did not.
She handed him a dish towel.
“Men in this house leak more than my old sink,” she said.
Julian laughed through tears.
Something had changed between them.
My mother no longer called him “the billionaire.”
She called him Julian when she approved of him.
Mr. Ashford when she did not.
He learned the difference quickly.
One evening, I found Leo in the library staring at Caroline’s portrait.
His real mother.
She had kind eyes.
The whole house felt softer around that painting.
“Do you miss her?” I asked.
“Every day.”
I sat beside him.
“I’m sorry.”
He looked at me.
“Do you think she would hate me for liking you?”
The question shattered me.
“No,” I whispered. “Never.”
“How do you know?”
“Because good mothers don’t want their children lonely.”
He thought about that.
“Would it be weird if I loved you too?”
I could not speak.
He looked embarrassed.
“You don’t have to say it back.”
I pulled him into my arms.
“I love you, Leo.”
His body shook once.
Then he hugged me hard.
That was how Julian found us.
He stopped in the doorway, eyes shining.
Leo pulled away quickly.
“Don’t make it weird, Dad.”
Julian cleared his throat.
“I would never.”
My mother appeared behind him carrying cookies.
“You are all making it weird.”
Leo laughed.
For one whole minute, the house felt normal.
Then Naomi called.
The defense wanted to offer a deal.
Eleanor would plead guilty to lesser fraud charges.
No assault admission.
No witness intimidation.
No jail time.
Julian rejected it before Naomi finished speaking.
But the decision was not his alone.
The prosecutor wanted Leo’s opinion.
So the next morning, we sat together at the breakfast table.
Julian explained it gently.
“If she takes the deal, the trial ends. You would not have to testify.”
Leo stared at his plate.
“And she doesn’t have to say she pushed me?”
Julian’s face tightened.
“No.”
Leo looked at me.
“What would you do?”
I hated that question.
Because adults had asked too much of him already.
“I would ask myself what I needed to heal,” I said. “Not what strangers expect.”
He nodded.
Then he looked at his father.
“I need her to say it.”
Julian reached across the table.
“Then we go to trial.”
The trial began on a rainy Monday.
The courtroom was full.
Eleanor wore navy.
Leo wore the blue tie Julian helped him choose.
I sat beside my mother behind the prosecutor.
When Leo took the stand, my hands went numb.
He looked so small up there.
But his voice was clear.
“She told me Dad didn’t want me to have the money because I was weak,” he said. “She said if I signed, everything would be easier.”
The prosecutor asked, “What happened when you refused?”
Leo swallowed.
“She grabbed my arm. I pulled away. She pushed me. I fell.”
Eleanor stared at the table.
Her attorney stood.
“Leo, isn’t it true that Maya Santos influenced your memory?”
Leo frowned.
“No.”
“She was the first person you spoke to after the fall, correct?”
“She was the first person who helped me.”
A few people shifted.
The attorney tried again.
“You care about Maya?”
“Yes.”
“You might want to protect her?”
Leo looked at him like the answer was obvious.
“Yes. Because she protected me first.”
My mother squeezed my hand.
The prosecutor called me next.
I walked to the stand with my heart pounding.
May you like
Eleanor finally looked at me.
For once, I did not look away.
