Ice & Prejudice

Chapter 8

Ria's POV:
NEARLY THREE YEARS AGO

November 3rd:

The courtroom was colder than I expected, its sterile, unfeeling atmosphere amplified by the sharp scent of disinfectant lingering in the air. The harsh fluorescent lights cast an unforgiving glow over the room, making every flaw, every blemish, every ounce of exhaustion on my face painfully visible.

I hadn't slept in days. Dark circles were etched beneath my eyes, a testament to the nightmares that plagued me every time I closed them. My hands trembled slightly as I clutched the edges of the wooden bench, knuckles white from the force. I was terrified. But beneath that terror, simmering just below the surface, was a fierce determination. I had to do this. For me. For my sisters. For everyone who had been silenced before. He couldn't just get away with it. Not like so many others had. Not when my step-uncle did.

Across the room sat the Wolves family. They looked like they had stepped out of a glossy magazine, each one of them exuding an air of power and control. Eduard Wolves, the patriarch, sat stoically, his brow furrowed as if deep in thought. There was something unreadable in his expression, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that didn't quite fit.

Next to him, Nikolai—Vlad's older brother—looked at me with eyes that were hard as ice, his blond hair gelled neatly, not a single hair out of place, his disdain palpable. He sat rigid, chiseled jaw clenched, his long, straight nose occasionally flaring as if being in the same room as me was an insult to his very existence. His presence was suffocating, a constant reminder of the power imbalance in this room.

Then there was Kathryn, Eduard's younger sister. Her gaze was different. Softer, almost pained. It wasn't sympathy exactly, but there was something in her eyes that felt like recognition, like she knew something. But she didn't say anything, didn't break the cold, impenetrable front that the Wolves family maintained. Her silence was just as condemning as her brother's icy glare.

And then there was Vlad.

He sat there, looking every bit the charming, polished young man he presented himself to be. His hair was neatly combed, his suit perfectly tailored, and his face... His face was a mask of calm confidence. There was no hint of the twisted obsession, the malice I had come to know so well. He looked at me occasionally, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It made my skin crawl.

The prosecutor had done their best to present the evidence—the bruises, my testimony, the few messages I had managed to screenshot before my phone mysteriously vanished. But Vlad's defense team was ruthless. They picked apart every word, every hesitation, turning my fear against me.

"Miss Winters," the defense attorney's voice was smooth, almost too smooth. "You claim that my client, Vladislav Wolves, sexually assaulted you. Yet, there are numerous witnesses who attest to the contrary. They say you were pursuing him, that you were infatuated."

"That's not true," I whispered, my voice hoarse from lack of sleep and the overwhelming weight of anxiety pressing down on me.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning concern. "So, all these witnesses are lying?"

"Yes," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, but I could hear the quiver in it.

The attorney's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Interesting. And what about the fact that your phone, the very device you claim had all the evidence, has mysteriously disappeared?"

My heart pounded in my chest. I had no explanation. No way to prove what I knew to be true.

"It was stolen," I said weakly.