Chapter 8 - The Price of the Truth
The fallout from the arrest was catastrophic for Cole's empire. Within forty-eight hours, his business partners withdrew their funding, his development projects were frozen by the city, and the council members he had bribed were forced to resign.
Mara and I were safely ensconced in my mountain cottage, surrounded by tall pine trees and the peaceful sound of a nearby stream. For the first time in years, Mara slept for twelve hours straight, her face losing the tense, haunted look she had carried for so long.
But the battle wasn't entirely over.
Even from his jail cell, Cole was trying to fight. His expensive defense team filed for emergency custody of the unborn baby, claiming that Mara was mentally unstable and had stolen his corporate data under my "malicious influence."
I sat with Mara and our attorney, Sarah, at the wooden table in the cottage kitchen.
"He’s desperate," Sarah explained. "He knows that if he can get custody, he can use the baby as leverage to force Mara to recant her testimony regarding the domestic abuse. We need to prove the abuse was a consistent pattern."
"I have the medical report from Dr. Rostova," I said, placing the document on the table. "And I have the text messages he sent me threatening my job."
"It's good, but we need Mara’s direct testimony," Sarah said, looking gently at my sister. "Mara, you’ll have to stand in court and tell the judge exactly what he did to you. It won't be easy. They will try to tear you down."
Mara looked down at her hands, then out the window at the sunny forest. She took a deep breath, her shoulders squaring.
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"For five years, I let him make me feel small," Mara said, her voice steady and filled with a new, quiet strength. "I let him tell me I was clumsy, that I was crazy. But I’m not doing it anymore. Not for me, and especially not for my daughter. I will testify."
I reached out and squeezed her hand. The quiet sister had officially found her voice.
