Tristan's POV
The courtroom smelled like old wood and polished floors, it was suffocating and unforgiving. Every breath I took felt borrowed, like the air itself didn’t belong to me anymore. My stomach twisted violently, a slow churn that made me nauseous, and I kept my jaw locked tight, terrified that if I opened my mouth, something humiliating would spill out. A groan, a gasp, a confession I don’t even know I was holding.
This wasn't my world. Boardrooms and silent wars fought over contracts and numbers... I know those rooms. I thrive there. But this? This place strips you bare without ever touching you.
I sat rigid on the hard bench, my hands clasped together so tightly that my knuckles had gone white. My leg bounces uncontrollably, a betrayal I can’t seem to stop. Beside me, Maria sits composed, professional, and her posture was calm in a way that almost irritated me. She is part of my legal team at Crane Industries. She is sharp, observant, and steady. She’s here because she insisted on being here. Because she knew I would unravel if I were alone.
Across the room to my right, Grace sits with her legal counsel. I do not look at her. I refuse to. The very idea of meeting her eyes makes bile rise in my throat. I don’t trust myself not to explode, to stand up and scream the truth until my voice shreds itself raw.
But instead, I think of Elona. The way the paparazzi shouted this morning as we left the house still echoes in my skull, her expression said it all, her face drained from blood, becoming pale. She thought I hadn't noticed, but I did. I had to compose myself with all my strength not to lash out at them, because I would be plastered everywhere for my short temper, and then as I entered the courthouse, those words still echoes in my skull too.
Did you sleep with her, Mr. Crane?
Did you intimidate her?
What about the miscarriage? Was it an abortion and blamed it on Grace?
How dare they.
How f^cking dare they reduce Elona’s pain, our loss, into something sensational. How dare they twist something sacred and devastating into a headline. I wanted to tear through them, I wanted to shield her from every cruel syllable hurled into the air, but I couldn’t. I had to keep walking. I had to keep my head down like a criminal.
A bailiff calls for order.
My pulse spiked.
Rowan isn’t here.
The realization hits me again, sharp and cold. My lawyer. The one person who absolutely cannot be late today. I glance at the empty seat beside me... Still empty. My throat tightens.
Where the hell are you, Rowan?
The judge enters, and everyone rises. I do the same, but my movements are stiff, almost mechanical. When we sit again, my chest feels too tight, like something is wrapped around my ribs and pulling.
The judge scanned the room, flipping through documents. “Mr. Crane,” she said, looking directly at me.
I forced myself to lift my head. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Your legal representation appears incomplete. Where is Mr. Rowan Patel?” The words land like a blow.
“I...” My voice faltered. I swallowed hard. “I’m not aware of his delay, Your Honor, or the reason for it.”
The judge’s gaze sharpened slightly. “You understand the seriousness of these proceedings.”
“Yes,” I barely managed to say.
My heart slammed violently against my chest. This can’t be happening. This can’t be how it ends, me sitting here alone with Maria at one side, painted as a predator, while the person meant to defend me is nowhere to be found.
Grace’s lawyer shifted in his seat. My stomach dropped. Maria leaned closer to me, her voice was low and steady. “Breathe. I’m trying to reach him. Stay with me, Tristan.” I nodded, but it’s more of a reflex than agreement. She goes back to texting him, I assume. My thoughts were spiraling too fast.
Rowan screwed you.
You trusted him.
Now you’re f^cked.
Every worst-case scenario flashes through my mind, headlines, court rulings, and Elona dragged through more pain because of me.
The idea that the court might rule in Grace’s favor today, even temporarily, makes my vision blur. All because of Rowan not showing up. I can’t let that happen.
The judge glances at the clock. “We will wait a few more minutes,” she said. “After that, I will be forced to proceed.” She meant every word.
A few more minutes. My heart nearly stopped.
I stare at the floor, counting the lines in the wood, forcing myself to inhale slowly through my nose. In. Out. In. Out. My palms were slick with sweat. My suit felt too tight, my collar choking me.
I think about what Elona and I had already lost. I can’t lose this case over my short temper and Grace's need to win all because of her crush on me.
The courtroom doors swing open. The sound was deafening. I looked up just as Rowan strode in, slightly out of breath, his tie was crooked, and an apology was written all over his face.
“I apologize for the delay, Your Honor,” Rowan said quickly. “An urgent matter required immediate attention.”
Relief crashed over me so hard my vision swam. My heart slammed erratically, like it didn’t know whether to keep fighting or collapse altogether. At least my lawyer was finally here, but my blood still boiled.
The judge exhaled sharply. “This court does not tolerate tardiness, Mr. Patel.”
“I understand, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded once. “Given the circumstances, we will reschedule this preliminary hearing for tomorrow morning. We will have Grace and Tristan take the stand tomorrow to be questioned. I do not believe that someone should be charged wrongfully because we had that happen a few times before. So Grace, I hope you're right for your sake.”
My shoulders sagged as the tension finally loosened its grip on my lungs. I didn’t realize how close I was to breaking until that moment, until the danger passed and left behind shaking hands and a hollow ache.
As we stand and the court adjourns, I resist the urge to grab Rowan by the collar and demand answers. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to erupt right there.
Outside the courtroom, the air felt just as thick. Grace, along with Delance, walked towards the exit as if on a mission. But my attention was now on Rowan.
“What the hell happened?” I snapped the moment we were clear of the judge’s hearing.
Rowan rubbed his face. “I was with Alex Mendez. Camille’s situation is final-”
“I don’t care,” I cut in sharply. “I don’t give a damn about Camille right now.”
Rowan stiffened. “Tristan-”
“If you don’t show up tomorrow, you’re fired. I don’t care how long we have worked together,” I said coldly.
He nodded once. “Understood. But Estelle did change the Will...that's what I wanted to tell you.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. So, Camille indeed told the truth. Why would Estelle do such a thing behind my back? Hurt surfaced, but it was too late now. I turned away before my temper or hurt betrayed me any further.
I rushed to the bathroom, I braced my hands against the edge of the basin, taking a deep breath, I turned open the faucet, letting the cold water run, then splashing cold water onto my face. When I looked into the mirror, my reflection stared back at me. I was pale, strained, and my eyes were rimmed red with exhaustion and fury. The walls felt like it was closing in on me.
Count.
One.
Two.
Three.
I breathed until the tightness in my chest eased, until my pulse slowed to something manageable.
When I finally left the courthouse, the shouting started again.
“Mr. Crane!”
“Did you threaten her?”
“Are you guilty?”
I don’t respond. I don’t look back.
I just keep walking towards my car, get home, with the fragile hope that tomorrow might give me a fighting chance. Because I refuse to let this be how they define me. And I refused to let Elona suffer for something I didn’t do and yet how my actions gave me these consequences when I only confronted Grace.