My Husband Defended the Man Who Assaulted Me Chapter 04

My Husband Defended the Man Who Assaulted Me Chapter 04

The next morning, I was at the hospital with my mom when the internet exploded.

I opened my phone. My name was everywhere.

[Famous lawyer’s wife is a sex-addicted psycho!]

[Barren woman jealous of pregnant first love—honey-traps innocent college boy!]

Every word hammered into my skin like a nail.

Shots of my crimson dress, its plunging neckline, its high thigh slit—blown up, frame-selected, and deliberately circled to fix public focus on my chest and legs.

The images were turned into vulgar memes paired with degrading captions.

[Slit up to her crotch! Bet she’s going commando.]

[No wonder Sullivan Evans went back to his first love. Who’d want this barren bitch?]

[Poor Celine. She’s pregnant and getting revenge-schemed by a crazy woman.]

The filth kept coming, all the way to the second hearing.

That morning, the sky was the color of a bruise.

Celine sat in the front row again.

Eden Whitmore sat in the defendant’s chair, playing the innocent kid.

Sullivan stood up. Colder and crueler than last time.

The big screen lit up.

A private recording from my therapy session, dated three months ago.

Me, sobbing in his arms, spilling my rawest fear,

“Sullivan, the moment Celine came back, I felt like I was losing you… I can’t give you children. Will you stop wanting me?”

He had taken that pure, unreserved trust, that intimate moment of raw vulnerability, and twisted it into a lethal piece of evidence against me.

Sullivan pointed his laser at the screen, at my crying face.

“Your Honor, Ms. Croft has a long history of severe jealous delusion and clinical depression!”

“Because she cannot conceive, she harbored deep resentment toward the pregnant Ms. Whitmore. That night, she deliberately wore that provocative dress, drank ten shots, and fueled by alcohol and psychiatric side effects, shelured my client’s brother into that room!”

“This was nothing but a meticulously staged honey trap to ruin Ms. Whitmore’s life and reputation out of petty jealousy!”

I sat in the witness box, tasting blood in my throat.

They zoomed in on my dress, my womb, my shattered records.

No one asked how it felt to be pinned down while my clothes were ripped off.

Sullivan closed the file with icy finality.

“The defense urges the court to fully consider the unreliability of Ms. Croft’s testimony and her potential malicious intent, and dismiss all charges!”

Malicious intent?

Celine clutched her belly in the gallery. Let out a long, quiet breath.

A tiny victory smile curled her lips.

I closed my eyes.

During the recess before the verdict, I went to the restroom.

In the hallway, Eden stepped out of nowhere.

He stopped in front of me. Voice low.

“Hey, Vivian. See?”

“Your husband’s even better than I thought. I screw you raw, and he turns it into your honeypot.”

Blood rushed to my head.

I lifted my hand instinctively to strike, and he flinched backward.

Then Celine appeared.

“Eden!”

She yanked him behind her, fixing me with that familiar wary, injured gaze.

“Vivian, you’re not going to hit someone in a courthouse, are you?”

I bit my lip so hard I nearly threw up.

The court recess drew to an end. The judge prepared to deliver the final verdict, and the entire courtroom rose to their feet in taut.

Then Sullivan’s phone buzzed.

His most trusted investigator, Dave Hale.

He glanced down.

[Sir, new footage found. Vivian wasn’t willing. She was force-fed a heavy date-rape drug and dragged in. Ms. Whitmore was in the room… she’s the one who stripped Vivian’s clothes off.]

Sullivan’s head snapped up. Stared straight at Celine.