CHAPTER 227: MY WIFE

Rafael ended the call with a quiet sigh, sliding his phone into the breast pocket of his blazer. His shoulders tensed, not from anything Mara had said, but from the sound of footsteps behind him. He didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Ethan stood just a few steps away, hands in the pockets of his tailored coat. His eyes were sharp, unreadable.

"You were talking to my wife," Ethan said calmly, his voice low but steady.

Rafael turned slightly, expression unimpressed. "Your ex-wife, dude. Let’s not rewrite history."

Ethan took a slow breath, eyes narrowing. "She called you this late. Not me. Not the father of her two children."

Rafael tilted his head. "And whose fault is that, exactly?"

"I don’t know. Maybe the man who’s trying to be the hero to a woman he barely knows."

Rafael gave a short laugh. "You’re still playing the wrong part in this story, Ethan. She doesn’t care about you. Not now. Not the way you want."

That hit deeper than either of them admitted. Ethan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

"I’ll have dinner alone in my room," Rafael said, already walking toward the elevator.

"You afraid I’ll slip something into your drink?" Ethan called out casually.

Rafael glanced over his shoulder, sharp smile. "Why, yeah. You give me those charming psychopath vibes. So—bye. See you in court tomorrow."

The elevator doors opened, and Rafael stepped in without another glance.

Ethan stood alone in the lobby, the soft music overhead playing to no one.

After a moment, he pulled out his phone. Dialed.

It rang. And rang.

No answer.

He didn’t seem surprised. Just typed out a message. wanted to talk to the twins.

A minute passed. Then Mara replied. It’s late. They’re asleep.

He stared at the screen. No "how are you?" No "hope you’re okay." No emotion.

Just a closed door. Ethan let the screen go dark and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

In a quiet hotel lobby under soft lights, with no one watching, Ethan allowed himself one blink-too-long pause of stillness.

Then he turned and walked out into the night.

—

Los Vinania District Courthouse – Day Two of the Trial

The courtroom hushed as the judge nodded toward the defense table.

"Mr. Anderson, you may call your next witness."

Ethan stood. "We call Maria-Isabel Williams Lewis to the stand." A faint whisper traveled through the rows like a breeze.

Maria stood. She didn’t wobble. She didn’t falter. But her heartbeat was so loud in her ears that it muffled the sound of her name being sworn in.

Ethan’s voice was soft when he approached. "Maria... I know this isn’t easy. But speak freely. This is your truth, not theirs."

She nodded, eyes never leaving the jury.

He took a breath. "Maria... can you tell the court, in your own words, what happened the night of August 14th?"

Silence.

Then, her voice, low and trembling at first.

"I had just put Isabella to sleep. She wasn’t feeling well... she never does at night without her medicine. She was born early, and she’s needed me every day since."

A pause. Deep breath.

"That night... someone came to my apartment. A man I worked with before—he had been following me for weeks, but I thought I was safe. I didn’t let him in. But he pushed the door open."

A juror shifted uncomfortably.

"He said he only wanted to help. That he knew I was struggling. I had a child, and I had no one. Not my parents. Not my brothers. Not my friends. I was alone."

She looked down, voice cracking. "Then Daniel came." The name made the room colder.

"He was drunk. Angry. He always was. He screamed. He pushed me. The man—my co-worker—tried to leave, but Daniel... he stabbed him. Right there. Right in front of the fridge."

Gasps. The judge banged the gavel gently. "Order." Ethan didn’t interrupt. He let her keep going.

"I tried to stop him. I grabbed the knife after, but it was too late. Daniel said I was going to take the fall. That I owed him. That if I ever called anyone, he would kill me. Or worse... take my daughter."

Her lip trembled.

"I agreed to whatever he wanted. I let him hide the body. I didn’t call the police. I thought—I thought I could fix it later. If I just got Isabella out."

Her fingers trembled on the wooden rail.

"He came back hours later. I was giving my daughter her medicine, and he thought I was calling for help. He hit me. I didn’t fight. But when Isabella started crying... he raised his hand at her."

Maria’s voice dropped to a whisper.

"He. Hit. Her."

Her eyes were full of something wild and fragile. Fury and grief braided together.

"And I snapped."

She looked at the jury, unblinking.

"I didn’t stab him because I was angry. I stabbed him because I knew—if I didn’t—he was going to keep hurting her. And then one day... my daughter’d grow up thinking that’s what love looked like."

Tears spilled silently, but she didn’t wipe them.

"I wish I could say I did it to protect myself. But I didn’t. I did it for her. And if that makes me guilty, then so be it."

Silence.

Ethan stepped back. "No further questions, Your Honor." The judge nodded.

The prosecutor stood, slowly.

"Miss Lewis... are you aware that you stabbed Daniel Lewis sixteen times?"

Maria swallowed. "Yes. I guess,"

"You had time to stop. After one. After two. Even after ten."

Maria’s voice didn’t shake. "I didn’t count. I just wanted it to end." The prosecutor walked slowly across the courtroom.

"And yet, you never once reported him before. Never went to the police. Never documented any abuse."

"I tried to run. I left my life behind. Changed apartments. Jobs. I was running every day. That night was the first time I had seen him after a year,"

"So we’re to believe your story, based only on your word?" Maria looked directly at the prosecutor.

"No. You’re to believe me because I’m finally not hiding anymore." That silenced even the prosecutor. The judge called for a recess. But the courtroom didn’t move. They just stared at her. Maria-Isabel. Not a monster. Not a murderer. But a mother who finally spoke.