Chapter 2

I put the statement back on the coffee table. "I'll ask my lawyer first."

Charles frowned. "The verdict's already out. What more do you need to ask?"

"I want to make sure I'm doing it by the book."

I picked up my phone and called my lawyer, Anna.

The call connected quickly.

I put it on speaker.

"Ms. Stone, the court orders me to make a public apology for fifteen days straight, but there's no specific script. Can I read the verdict as it is?" I asked.

There was a brief silence on the other end before she said, "You mean you're going to stick to what's written in the verdict and what the court recognized?"

"Yeah."

"In theory, that's fine. But don't throw in any extra opinions or talk about stuff the court didn't confirm."

Charles's expression darkened.

He lunged for my phone.

I leaned away to dodge him.

"Did you hear that?" I said.

Anna continued, "Mrs. Pierce, remember to keep the original video and screenshots of the posting times. That way, if they try to argue later, you'll have proof."

"Got it." Then I hung up.

The living room went quiet.

The water in Kinsley's glass rippled.

Charles stared at me. "Julia, what are you trying to pull now?"

I set the verdict, my driver's license, and the phone stand on the dining table. "I'm following the verdict."

"Read the statement I wrote," he said.

"The court told me to apologize, not to read your little speech."

Charles stood up. "Don't push me."

I glanced at the camera above the entrance. "Go ahead. Say whatever you want to."

He followed my gaze, his jaw tightening.

Kinsley quickly grabbed his arm. "Charlie, stop arguing. Julia's willing to apologize. That's all that matters."

She sounded so reasonable, but I could see the panic flickering in her eyes.

I sat down at the dining table and started recording on my phone.

On camera, my face looked a bit pale, but my gaze was steady.

I placed the verdict in front of me.

Charles stood out of frame, his voice low and threatening. "Julia, think carefully."

I pressed the record button, the red light came on, and I stared into the camera, carefully enunciating each word. "Hey everyone, I'm Julia Pierce.

"As per the court's ruling, I have to make a public apology to Mr. Charles Pierce for fifteen days in a row."

The room went dead silent.

I opened the verdict. "On the first day, I apologize to Mr. Charles Pierce."

I paused. "I shouldn't have publicly accused him of having an ongoing affair with his colleague, Ms. Kinsley Mercer, before the court had fully ruled in my favor."

Kinsley's head snapped up.

I kept reading. "The verdict also notes that Mr. Pierce and Ms. Mercer have multiple records of staying together at hotels, unusual money transfers, and significant gift purchases."

Charles lunged at me.

I looked up at him. "If you touch my phone, I'll call the cops."

His hand froze mid-air.

I looked straight into the camera, my voice calm and steady. "All of this is directly quoted from the official verdict. From today, my apology begins."

I hit stop, and the video was saved.

Charles's face was livid.

Kinsley's tears streaked down her cheeks, but this time, she let them fall without trying to wipe them away.

I opened the post page and kept the title short and simple. [Day 1: Apology.]

Five minutes after the video went live, it had only two hundred views.

Charles stood by the dining table, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "Delete it," he said.

I set my phone face down on the table. "The court ordered a public apology, and that's exactly what I'm doing."

"Is that what you call an apology?"

"I apologized at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end."

Kinsley finally realized what was happening, and tears started streaming down her face again. "Julia, why are you doing this? The judge already made his decision. Why do you have to get me involved in all this?"

I looked at her.

At twenty-seven, she was eight years younger than me.

She was the new administrative assistant at Charles's office, always sweet-talking, always hustling, and she'd bring coffee for the bosses when everyone else was stuck working overtime.

In my previous life, she was always going on about how innocent she was.

But she wore the gold bracelet Charles gave her, carried the designer purses he bought with his card, and lived in the apartment he paid the deposit for.

She threw around the word "innocent" like it meant nothing.

"Because the court ruling named you," I said.

Her face went pale.

Charles stepped in front of her. "Come at me instead. Leave her out of this."

I almost laughed out loud.

I'd heard him say those things too many times. "Don't make things hard for her." And "She's young, she's timid, she's just an employee. She can't handle the public pressure."

But what about me?

When they stomped all over my twelve-year marriage, my daughter, and my job, did anyone ever tell them to cut me some slack?