Sarah never once dared to look at Keith throughout the trial. She kept her gaze lowered, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, answering only the questions directed at her and nothing more. Every word felt heavy as it left her lips, as though speaking itself demanded every ounce of strength she had left.
She told herself that if she looked at him—even for a second—the memories would come flooding back—the fear. The pressure of his fingers tightened around her throat. The terrifying certainty that she had almost died in his hands.
So she stared at the witness stand instead. But Keith's attorney had no intention of making things easy for her.
He rose from his seat with measured confidence, straightening his suit before walking toward the center of the courtroom. His expression remained composed, almost courteous, yet every question he asked carried the precision of a knife. He wasn't merely trying to challenge her testimony—he was dismantling her credibility piece by piece.
