Vanessa's POV.

They brought me in through the back. Shackled. Dressed in orange. I could feel every damn eye in that courtroom the moment the doors opened.

Phones were out. Cameras. People whispering. Judging. Hating.

I used to walk through halls with power in my step, people hanging onto my words, afraid to cross me. Now, the guards shoved me forward like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t the Vanessa Monroe.

The courtroom was colder than I remembered. The lights too bright. Too many people. Too many eyes. My throat was dry, and not a soul here gave a damn.

The judge didn’t look up as I was led to...