CHAPTER 13

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Two days passed, and today marked the first hearing in court. The scandal involving August Willson, daughter of the influential businessman, accused of killing their rival's son, had gripped the public's attention. The air was thick with anticipation as everyone eagerly awaited the judgment.

Traumatized and unable to speak properly, August, bruised and battered from the beatings in juvenile detention, faced the scrutiny of the courtroom. Her eyes, void of confidence, reflected the agony of the ordeal she had endured.

Bruised and battered, her face told the tale of the relentless beatings suffered at the hands of jail inmates. Merely two days into her confinement in the juvenile center felt like an agonizing eternity. In the midst of the pain, all August yearned for was an opportunity to prove her innocence and dispel the accusations surrounding the death of Jack.

"Oh god, what has happened to you, my dear rose," Elijah feigned concern, his words laced with a false tenderness. The media swarmed around them, capturing the staged act. Whispers spread, questioning why Elijah Rivera still exhibited care towards a supposed murderer.

"Are you okay, dear?" he asked again, his pretentious act convincing enough for onlookers to be deceived.

"Trust me, you still have the choice, my little rose," his tone shifted as he leaned down, whispering ominous words in her ears.

"All you need to do is submit to me and my brothers, or you know what kind of animals you will have to survive your life with. They're going to rip you into pieces." In that moment, August realized that the torment she endured in the juvenile center was orchestrated by Elijah and his brothers.

"You can choose to bloom with us or wilt away painfully in that hell. The choice is yours now," he declared before leaving, leaving August to grapple with the gravity of the decision he had presented.

August stood frozen, grappling with the weight of her cursed fate. The familial hatred and a sense of growing up as an orphan, despite having a father, haunted her existence. In these trying moments, Noah and the memories of her mother became the pillars that held her fragile resolve intact.

Amidst the chaos, she questioned whether Noah had abandoned her, uncertain of his awareness of the torment she endured. The desire to cry, scream, and escape this nightmare overwhelmed her, yet the harsh reality kept her firmly stuck in the ordeal.

Her mind and emotions spiraled into a chaotic mess, but amid the turmoil, one conviction remained clear – she would rather endure hell with the deranged inmates than surrender her dignity to those monstrous individuals. In the face of adversity, August clung to her unwavering sense of self.

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The courtroom, a stark arena of judgment, resonated with an air of anticipation. August willson, a 17-year-old burdened by accusations that felt like heavy chains, stood vulnerable in the suspect box. The harsh fluorescence overhead illuminated the tension etched on every face in the room.

Prosecutor Lawson, a formidable figure of authority, paced with deliberate steps, meticulously building a case against August. The air thickened with his words, a tapestry of allegations and evidence woven with precision, aiming to paint a damning portrait of guilt. The weight of the accusations hung palpably in the atmosphere, creating an ominous backdrop to the unfolding legal drama.

The courtroom, fraught with tension, bore witness to Prosecutor Lawrence Lawson confronting August, demanding an explanation for the bloodied bracelet found clenched in the victim's fist.

August trembled at the sight of her tarnished bracelet inside the evidence packet, and Prosecutor Lawson's sharp words intensified the pressure.

"Speak, Ms. Willson," the prosecutor's loud voice echoed through the courtroom.

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