Chapter 13 - The Trial That Put My Marriage on Display
The trial began eight months later.
By then Katherine Rose had two teeth.
She laughed whenever Dad sneezed.
And I had officially returned to Mercer Holdings.
Not as ceremonial heiress.
As acting chairwoman.
Dad remained on the board but refused the top position.
“You earned the seat,” he told me.
“I inherited the votes.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
He was right.
The trial drew national attention.
Gavin sat at the defense table.
Damon had already pleaded guilty to several charges in exchange for testimony.
Adrian did the same.
Lacey testified for six hours.
Then it was my turn.
Gavin’s attorney tried to make me emotional.
He asked about psychiatric treatment.
I had none.
He asked about arguments with Damon.
Of course we had them.
He asked whether pregnancy made me “more reactive than usual.”
The prosecutor objected.
Sustained.
Then came the kennel.
“Mrs. Cross, is it possible you entered the enclosure voluntarily?”
“No.”
“Were you upset?”
“Yes.”
“Did you threaten your husband?”
“I told him I was leaving.”
“Could he have interpreted that as emotional instability?”
I looked toward the jury.
“My husband was sleeping with my best friend, had drugged me and taken my phone. Telling him I was leaving was the most mentally stable decision I made all week.”
A juror almost smiled.
The attorney changed direction.
“Your father struck your husband.”
“Yes.”
“Then imprisoned him in the same kennel.”
“For approximately four minutes while police were coming.”
“Was that appropriate?”
“My father can answer for himself.”
“Did you enjoy seeing Damon locked inside?”
There it was.
The bait.
I thought carefully.
“No.”
He seemed disappointed.
“No?”
“I was too frightened to enjoy anything.”
Silence.
“I wanted out. That’s different from wanting revenge.”
The courtroom became very still.
That was the truth I had learned over the previous year.
Revenge and freedom are not the same thing.
One keeps you connected to the person who hurt you.
The other lets you leave.
Gavin testified in his own defense.
Of course he did.
He blamed everyone.
Northstar executives misled him.
Dr. Voss acted independently.
Damon misunderstood.
Adrian was troubled.
Lacey was greedy.
My mother was unstable.
Dad was incompetent.
And I was vindictive.
Every person was responsible except Gavin Shaw.
Then the prosecutor played Rachel Bell’s recording.
Thomas Vale’s voice filled the courtroom.
“You altered the report.”
Gavin’s younger voice answered.
“I corrected it.”
“You removed the contamination warning.”
“I removed an unverified conclusion.”
“People could die.”
A pause.
Then Gavin said:
“People die every day.”
Nobody moved.
The prosecution rested.
Three days later, the jury returned.
Guilty.
Again.
Guilty.
Again.
Guilty.
By the fourth count, Gavin stopped reacting.
By the eleventh, Dad cried.
Not from happiness.
From relief.
Damon received a reduced sentence because of cooperation but still faced years in prison.
Adrian too.
Dr. Voss lost his license and was convicted separately.
Lacey avoided prison on the most serious conspiracy charge because she cooperated early, but pleaded guilty to lesser offenses and received probation, restitution, and community service.
People online argued that she deserved worse.
Maybe she did.
I stopped reading comments.
After sentencing, Lacey asked to speak to me once more.
We met outside the courthouse.
She looked healthier.
Different.
“I’m moving to Oregon.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to work at a nonprofit.”
I almost laughed at the obvious attempt at redemption.
She caught my expression.
“I know. It sounds ridiculous.”
“A little.”
She smiled sadly.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I wanted to say goodbye.”
I looked at the woman who had once been my closest friend.
For years, I believed forgiveness meant pretending pain no longer mattered.
It doesn’t.
Forgiveness, when it comes at all, can simply mean deciding you no longer want to carry someone inside your anger.
“I hope you become someone you can live with,” I said.
She cried.
“Is that forgiveness?”
“No.”
I turned toward the courthouse steps.
“But it’s the closest thing I have today.”
I walked away.
Noah waited beside the car holding Katherine.
She immediately reached for me.
“Mommy!”
One word.
The best one.
I took her.
Noah smiled.
“Ready?”
“For what?”
“Your first board meeting without someone trying to steal the company.”
I laughed.
“Sounds boring.”
“I hear boring can be nice.”
He opened the door for me.
Our hands touched.
Neither of us moved immediately.
Something small passed between us.
Not dramatic.
Not a rescue.
Not destiny.
May you like
Just possibility.
For the first time, that was enough.
