Chapter 8
701words
Angelica was also seriously injured since the driver's seat was stained with blood. They took her away in the ambulance as well.
While waiting outside the operating room, I called Luke. He and his team arrived shortly after.
"Try not to worry too much. Let's wait for the doctor," he said, trying to calm me.
"Angelica has to pay for what she did," I said, my eyes red as I dropped to my knees and clutched at his pant leg.
"Get up," he said. "The law will handle this. I promise you that justice will be served."
Half an hour later, a doctor emerged from the room.
"Mr. Cole is out of danger. We just need his family member to sign some paperwork."
Zachary's parents had arrived ten minutes earlier. When they heard he'd pull through, the relief was visible on both their faces. His mother came over and took my hand.
"You must be Jocelyn. Zachary's always been the stubborn type, even as a kid. He talks about you all the time," she said, tears running down her cheeks.
"When he cares about someone, he'd do anything to protect them. Whether it's friendship or something more, please don't let him down."
I squeezed her hand, emotions churning inside me.
"Anyone who wants to see him can go in now," the doctor said. "Just keep it brief."
Zachary's parents went in for a few minutes, then said they were heading home to make soup. They asked if I could stay with him for a bit.
Zachary lay in the hospital bed and was hooked up to what seemed like a dozen tubes. His face was ghastly pale.
I gently took his hand, and tears streamed down my face.
"Why would you do something so stupid? Was I really worth it?"
"Yes…" His voice was barely a whisper. "As long as… you're okay…"
I buried my face in his shoulder and sobbed.
"The trial is tomorrow. I swear I'll get justice for me, for you, and for both of us."
The next day in court, Maxwell's defense attorney tried his hardest to paint him as an innocent victim caught up in some obsessed woman's schemes. They claimed the video was Angelica manipulating him into saying things.
Then the prosecutor presented the decisive evidence—security footage from a parking garage. The video showed Maxwell handing her a bag of white powder. His voice came through crystal clear.
"Double the dosage this time. Make sure she doesn't see next year."
Maxwell's lawyer was rendered speechless.
Maxwell himself looked like hell—disheveled, clothes rumpled, and nothing like his usual polished appearance. He'd been barely responsive since the hearing started.
The judge kept asking him questions, but he just stared blankly ahead.
But when it was Angelica's turn to testify, something in him snapped.
"It's all that bitch's fault…" he muttered.
"Could you repeat that?" the judge asked, unable to hear him clearly.
"That bitch seduced me. It was her idea," Maxwell shouted. "It was all her fault."
She had miscarried the day before after being rushed to the hospital. Her mental state had been fragile ever since. The doctor had given her sedatives before the hearing so that she could sit through it without breaking down.
At first, she'd sat there impassively and stayed silent to every question just like Maxwell had. But hearing him throw her under the bus completely shattered whatever composure she had left. She started talking and told them everything, claiming it was his plan.
Desperate for a reduced sentence, she spilled detail after detail on how he had used his position to embezzle company funds, and how they'd planned to marry me right before my "accidental death" so he could inherit my shares.
During the break, I cornered her in the hallway.
"Why?" I demanded, blocking her path. "I don't understand why you both did this to me. You've been planning this since high school. Why?"
Angelica seemed utterly drained, not even lifting her head to look at me.
"What did I ever do to you?" I finally lost it, the words bursting out in a raw, desperate cry.
