The courthouse was packed. Press, spectators, curious townspeople—everyone wanted to see the Reynolds brothers' saga play out. Valentina sat behind the prosecution table, Duke beside her, their hands clasped so tightly her fingers had gone numb.
Connor entered in an expensive suit, flanked by two high-priced lawyers. He looked thinner, his charm dimmed but not extinguished. His eyes found Valentina's across the room, and he smiled. Cold. Calculated. Unrepentant.
She looked away.
"All rise for the Honorable Judge Patricia Morrison."
The trial began with opening statements. The prosecutor, a sharp woman named Davis, laid out the case methodically. Connor Reynolds had murdered his father, framed his brother, and attempted to kill a witness to cover his crimes.
Connor's lead attorney, a s
