She said, "Regarding the accusation that Elena forced Jake to spend money, the court finds it unsubstantiated. Elena is not guilty."
I couldn't help but let out a derisive laugh. In an instant, Jake and his family's triumphant expressions froze.
The crowd erupted again.
"This is twisted."
"Unbelievable. Is this court rigged?"
"Elena deserves to rot in hell."
The judge had to restore order.
Then the trail continued.
The next charge was that I had abused my son.
The memory shifted to three years after I married into the Morris family.
I had just given birth to my son.
In the delivery room, I weakly opened my eyes and saw Jake and his family, all beaming.
My mother-in-law, Dana Morris, held the baby joyfully. "Elena, you've given our family a big, healthy boy. Thank you."
Jake squeezed my hand. "Honey, thank you."
His sister, Nicole Morris, chimed in sweetly, "Elena, don't worry about a thing. I'll handle all the housework while you recover."
Everything seemed harmonious.
But the moment I laid eyes on the baby, my expression darkened.
"This isn't my child. Where's my baby?" I demanded.
The courtroom gasped in unison.
On the screen, Dana and Jake exchanged a nervous glance.