Page 68 of Forced Bratva Kidnapped Virgin
Maybe she was wife material for a man like me after all. Perhaps she had what it took to help keep the business running.
Chapter 23 — Kiera
Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit that Nial had custom-made for me, I stood at the plaintiff’s table, balanced on a pair of heels. A stack of documents was arranged before me, my manicured fingers resting on the wood.
I looked calm and collected on the outside, even though my heart was racing in my chest. Behind me, July sat quietly beside me, hands clasped on her lap.
When the doors opened, and Vika walked in with his legal team, I locked my jaw, ready for this battle. Their shoes scuffed against the floor, their presence commanding attention.
The arrogant prick glared at me with a mocking grin on his lips as he took his seat across from me. I held his gaze, a faint smirk lining a corner of my mouth. That single gesture caused his eyes to squint, as if suspecting I had something up my sleeve.
Good.
Let him feel the weight of that uncertainty.
Soon, the judge entered.
“All rise,” the bailiff called.
Chairs scraped against the floor as the gallery sprang to their feet.
The judge took her seat behind the bench. “You may be seated.”
The trial began.
At first, Vika’s lawyer controlled the rhythm of the courtroom. Calm, confident, and manipulative. He tried to paint July as mentally unstable, and his smooth talk soon had some of the jury members nodding their heads.
“This doesn’t look good,” July whispered to me.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” I reassured her with the same tone.
While Vika’s lawyer was speaking, I listened, noticing the flaws, the inconsistencies, and the loopholes I could use against him. He was smart. But even smart people made mistakes. Unfortunately for him, I was trained to spot said mistakes.
When it was finally my turn, I rose, head held up high.
“Your Honor,” I began, my voice steady and even. “The defense pushes through with the idea that my client fabricated these claims. But we have financial records to prove that she is, in fact, telling the truth.”
Silence.
I slid a folder toward the clerk.
Bank transfers appeared on the screen, large numbers disappearing and reappearing under different names.
A faint murmur rose from the gallery, and members of the jury exchanged glances. Vika’s expression darkened, his intense gaze fixed on me like a warning.
“What you’re looking at are transactions that occurred repeatedly over a span of five years,” I continued, ignoring the sick son of a bitch. “The companies involved all traced back to the same account.” I turned in his direction. “Viktor Tarasov.”
His jaw locked, rage flickering in his eyes.
“Objection!” his lawyer barked, rising to his feet.
“Overruled,” the judge said and faced me again. “You may continue.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” I bowed slightly. “The plaintiff would like to call a witness to the stand.”
“Proceed.”
I turned toward the back of the court. “The plaintiff calls Isaac McCall.”
