The courtroom didn't empty the way it normally did during recess.
It fractured.
People broke off into urgent clusters—whispering, speculating, arguing in hushed, frantic tones as if speaking too loudly might shatter what had just happened. Reporters scrambled for their phones. Legal aides rushed out with files clutched to their chests. Even the bailiff looked unsettled, like the ground beneath the law had shifted in a way no one could quite stabilize yet.
Sienna remained seated.
She couldn't move.
Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, fingers interlocked so hard they had gone pale. Her eyes stayed fixed on the empty witness stand, as if Vanessa might reappear and say it was all a mistake. A slip. A misstatement.
But she didn't.
Vanessa had walked out.
Calmly. Deliberately. As if confessing to destroying multiple lives was just another task she had decided to complete.
"That wasn't supposed to happen," Marcus muttered beside her.
His voice sounded distant.
