Chapter 8 - The Arraignment
The federal and municipal courthouse downtown was besieged by reporters, camera crews, and angry protestors holding signs that read JUSTICE FOR SOPHIE and LOCK HIM UP.
The flashbulbs blinded the sidewalk as Preston Miller was led out of a black transport van by two federal marshals. His hands were cuffed in front of him, his head bowed down to avoid the glaring cameras. The golden boy of Chicago real estate looked small, broken, and utterly defeated.
Seated on the courthouse steps, watching the broadcast on a small tablet screen, were Evelyn and Marcus.
"They denied his bail motion a second time," Marcus noted, sipping a paper cup of black coffee. "His defense tried to argue mental duress due to wedding stress. The judge laughed him out of the courtroom."
Evelyn crossed her arms, watching the screen as her brother was hustled past a sea of hostile journalists into the grand stone entrance.
"Good," Evelyn said quietly. "Let him experience what it feels like to be completely powerless."
Marcus turned his head, looking at her with a warm, steady gaze. "You know, Evelyn... what you did takes an incredible amount of strength. Most people would have folded under the pressure of that family."
Evelyn turned to meet his eyes, a faint, genuine smile touching her lips. "I didn't do it for myself, Marcus. I did it because my daughter needed to know that her mother would tear the world down before she ever let anyone hurt her again."
May you like
Marcus reached out, gently covering her hand with his own. "Well, if you ever need someone to help with the demolition, you know who to call."
Evelyn laughed—a light, musical sound that felt like the first breath of spring after a long, brutal winter.
