Small Hands Novel Chapter 10

Small Hands Novel Chapter 10

Jax’s trial began on a grey January morning.

The courthouse was besieged-reporters, cameras, fans, protesters. The story had everything: a secret billionaire wife, a cheating pop star, a

stolen Grammy, a miscarriage song.

I arrived flanked by Diana and Frank.

No Rhys. Vivienne couldn’t know he was involved.

Inside, front row.

Jax was brought through a side door. Orange jumpsuit. Cuffed hands. He’d shed thirty pounds and all his shine-gaunt, grey, diminished.

Our eyes met.

He mouthed: I’m sorry.

I looked away.

The prosecution was surgical. Forensic audio analysis. Metadata timestamps proving the demos predated Titan’s claims. Financial records

tracing stolen masters to Kyros Entertainment.

Jax’s defense: he didn’t know the recordings were proprietary. His wife was secretive. Controlling.

No one bought it.

Sienna testified under subpoena.

Diana’s cross-examination was a masterpiece.

“Ms. Frost, you believed the recordings were Mr. Mercer’s original work?”

“Yes.”

“Then explain this text message. Nine months ago, from you to Jax Mercer: ‘Found more files on her studio drive. These sound finished. Are we

sure she won’t notice?”

Gasps.

Sienna went white. “I was just-”

“You knew the music was stolen. You participated willingly.” Diana turned to the jury. “No further questions.”

During the recess, I stepped into the corridor-and stopped.

Vivienne Marchand. Twenty feet away. Ice-blue eyes locked on mine.

“Wren Mercer.” She approached, hand extended. “Or V? I’ve been eager to meet the woman who’s captured everyone’s attention.”

“Mrs. Marchand. Didn’t expect you here.”

“I have interests in the entertainment sector.” Porcelain smile. “Your showcase reveal was quite the spectacle. I hear you and Rhys have become

close. A word of advice-he collects brilliant women the way other men collect watches. Admires them, displays them, moves on

“Thank you for the concern.”

“Woman to woman.” She leaned closer. “Don’t trust him.”

She walked away, heels sharp on marble.

I watched her go. Expressionless. Calculating.

She had no idea what was coming.

My phone buzzed. Frank.

DOJ confirmed. Assets in position. Green light for Thursday.

No mistakes.

Never, V.

The prosecution rested that afternoon. The jury deliberated four hours.

Guilty. All counts.

Nineteen counts of intellectual property theft. Eight counts of fraud. Conspiracy. Sentence: thirty-two years.

Jax looked at me one final time.

I held his gaze. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t gloat.

Then walked out into the grey afternoon and breathed.

Almost over.