The courthouse was colder than Charlotte expected. Its marble pillars loomed like silent judges, watching her every step. She clutched her folder tighter to her chest, her pulse quickening as she walked toward the double doors that led into the trial chamber.This wasn’t a preliminary hearing anymore. This was testimony. This was her voice against the lies.Asher squeezed her hand before they entered, his warmth anchoring her trembling body. “You walk in there, and you remember who you are,” he murmured. “You’re not the accused. You’re Charlotte Hawthorne. And they’ll feel that before you even open your mouth.She managed a small nod, her throat too tight to answer.Inside, the room buzzed with tension. Valen wasn’t physically present—he rarely dirtied his hands with appearances—but his lawyers sat smug and composed, their sleek suits and sharp smiles calculated to intimidate. On the opposite side, Daniel Vega adjusted his glasses, his notes spread before him in neat stacks. His prese

Charlotte awoke to the shrill buzz of her phone. At first, she thought it was the alarm, but when she reached for it, she saw the time—it was only 5:42 a.m.—and the name flashing across the screen: Daniel Vega.“Asher,” she whispered, shaking her husband lightly. “It’s Daniel.”Asher stirred instantly, alertness flooding his features. “Answer.”She did, pressing the phone to her ear. “Daniel?”His voice came fast, urgent. “Don’t open the news. Don’t look online. Just—listen to me first.”Her stomach dropped. “What happened?”“They struck back. Hard. Elias’ team leaked personal photos—private images from your devices. Intimate ones. They’re plastered all over tabloids and business outlets already.”Charlotte’s grip on the phone went slack, her body stiffening. Heat rose in her cheeks, not from shame but from the sheer, gut-wrenching violation. “No,” she whispered.Asher took the phone, his jaw already tight as steel. “How?”“They hacked her cloud,” Daniel said grimly. “I’ll prove it in

The night was quiet, deceptively calm. Charlotte sat in the study, her laptop open, reviewing the latest evidence and press reports. Outside, the city lights flickered against the darkness, a silent witness to the storm brewing beneath the surface.Asher entered quietly, his steps heavy with tension. “Charlotte,” he said softly, closing the door behind him, “we have a problem. Not media, not court… something else.”Charlotte looked up from her screen, her brows knitting. “What is it?”Asher handed her a file. Inside were photographs: a car parked near their estate, an unfamiliar man casing the grounds, another standing across the street with a long lens camera aimed directly at their home.“They’re scouting again,” he said, voice low, controlled. “But this time, it’s personal. I don’t think it’s just intimidation. I think Valen wants a direct strike.”Charlotte’s pulse spiked. “Direct…?”“Yes. Not a smear campaign. Not a lawsuit. Something that could endanger us.”She swallowed hard,

Charlotte awoke to the muted glow of dawn filtering through the curtains. The city outside hummed quietly, oblivious to the storm that had been quietly building around her life. Even with the victories of the past weeks—the court victories, the public vindication, the weakening of Elias Valen’s influence—she knew this was far from over.Asher entered quietly, his presence steady and unwavering, a constant in the chaos of her life. “Morning,” he said softly, placing a coffee mug in front of her. “Sleep well?”Charlotte shook her head slightly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “Restless. I know he’s planning something. Valen never accepts defeat. He’ll strike again.”Asher sat beside her, a hand sliding over hers. “Then we meet it head-on. Every step, every move, we anticipate. That’s how we survive—and how we win.”Charlotte nodded, taking a sip of the coffee. “We’ve survived leaks, intimidation, and physical intrusions. What’s left? How far will he go?”Asher’s eyes dark

Charlotte sat in the dim glow of her office, reviewing every detail, every report, and every trace of Elias Valen’s desperation. His attacks had grown bolder, reckless, and now they teetered on the edge of the personal. Every intercepted communication, every financial irregularity, every social media manipulation only confirmed one thing: he was cornered, and cornered predators were the most dangerous.Asher entered silently, carrying two cups of coffee. “You look exhausted,” he said gently, setting one down beside her.Charlotte allowed herself a small smile, grateful for the moment of normalcy. “I’m focused, not exhausted. Every move he makes, every misstep… it’s all in front of us. But he’s unpredictable now. That unpredictability is dangerous.”Asher’s gaze hardened. “Then we anticipate it. We don’t react; we control it. He won’t catch you off guard.”Charlotte took a sip of coffee, her mind sharp. “That’s the plan. But this time… it feels different. He’s desperate. He won’t just