Ten Defeats Later: The Lawyer's Wife Snaps

Beatrice died under the tires of Hazel’s car. Brooks, my husband, dragged his childhood bestie straight to court without a second thought. The verdict?

The court ruled Beatrice had staged the accident for an insurance payout. Eight trials. Eight humiliating defeats. Yet, Brooks never backed down.

Tears streaming down her face, Hazel had demanded, "We grew up together, Brooks! Why won't you just let this go?" Then came the tenth defeat.

Brooks stumbled through our front door, his jaw covered in rough stubble, his shoulders heavy. "There’s simply no evidence to convict Hazel, Cleo," he murmured, his voice hollow. "We need to let Beatrice rest in peace." My chest caved in.

The wails tore through my throat until my lungs burned. I collapsed against his chest, crying until I had nothing left.

The very next morning, I tied Hazel to a chair and hit 'Go Live'.

I stared straight into the lens, a dark, twisted smile curling my lips. "Hubby," I purred. "You have ten chances to hand over the real evidence.

Otherwise—" My blade sliced through bone and cartilage.

Hazel’s pinky finger hit the floor. "—you can come piece your precious childhood bestie back together yourself." Chapter 1 A thick cloth gagged Hazel’s mouth.

Ropes dug into her wrists, pinning her to the wooden chair. I stood right behind her, a bloodstained knife loose in my grip, a serene smile plastered on my face.

Millions of viewers held their breath. But the sheer panic rolling off Brooks through the splitscreen was what truly set the tone. "Cleo!

I swear, there are no blind spots in Beatrice’s case! I triplechecked everything!" His voice crackled through the speakers, pure desperation.

I kept my eyes locked on his sweatslicked face projected on the massive monitor.

Slowly, I shook my head. "Wrong," I whispered. "You just never handed that verified evidence over to the cops." The live chat spiraled out of control. [Is this bitch insane?

Ten lost lawsuits isn't proof enough?] [Textbook paranoia.

What, she won't stop until they frame the driver for firstdegree murder?] [Her husband is a literal shark in the courtroom! He charges a sevenfigure retainer for a single case!

He dropped his entire roster to fight ten losing battles for her. Talk about ungrateful!] Brooks scanned the overwhelming wave of public support.

The tight lines around his mouth softened. He squared his shoulders, a sudden surge of authority returning to his tone. "Cleo! The facts are crystal clear.

The evidence is all on the table. There is nothing left to submit." He leaned closer to his camera. "What you’re doing right now is a major felony!

Drop the knife, release Hazel, and I will personally represent you in court!" I didn't waste my breath on a reply.

I simply grabbed the top of Hazel’s ear, angled the blade, and sliced. Brooks’s face froze on the screen.

I pinched the severed, bloody cartilage between my fingers and dangled it right in front of the webcam. "Do I look like I’m bluffing?" All the color drained from Brooks’s face. "You… you’ve completely lost your mind!" I casually tossed the ear over my shoulder.

Our golden retriever bounded out of the shadows, tail wagging frantically as he snapped up the raw meat from the floor. "That's one." I held up a single, bloodsmeared finger. "Ten lost cases, Brooks.

Ten deliberate coverups. That means you get ten chances to upload the real evidence you buried for the entire world to see.

You have exactly ten minutes on the clock for each." The comments flew faster than my eyes could track. [WTF? She’s fully unhinged!

There is no evidence!] [Leave us out of your sick revenge fantasy!

We don't automatically side with the girl playing the dead mom card!] [Honestly, maybe her mom really did try to pull a scam and failed?

Hazel is the real victim here!] The digital mob wanted my blood. They crucified me for refusing to accept Roland’s rulings, ten times over. [It’s just a massive cash grab.

The trashy apple doesn't fall far from the scammer tree. Mommy failed the con, so the daughter is doubling down!] [Where the hell is the LAPD?

Ping her damn phone before she slaughters that poor girl!] A direct message popped up on the screen from Raymond, the chief of police: [We have a lock on your coordinates.

Drop the weapon and surrender immediately!] A harsh laugh scraped my throat. Seth had already gutted my digital footprint. My IP address was bouncing across a dozen proxy servers.

They couldn’t even pinpoint my zip code. It was a pathetic bluff. The seconds ticked away. The sirens never came. Panic rippled through the viewers.

They swarmed the police department’s social media pages, demanding action. The precinct’s dispatch lines were jammed with frantic callers.

Backed into a corner, the department was forced to issue a public statement: "The suspect's location remains untraceable.

We are deploying our top cybercrimes unit to breach her signal." I glanced down at my watch.

I dragged the flat edge of the bloody blade down Hazel’s quivering cheek. "Are we ready?" I murmured. "Darling." "Wait!" Brooks screamed, shattering the silence.

Cold sweat beaded along his hairline. "I’ll upload it…" Chapter 2 I glanced at the screen. It was new evidence. Something I hadn't seen before.

But the second my eyes scanned the first line, I pivoted.

I slammed a number two pencil straight into Hazel’s right eye socket. "Mmph!!" The thick cloth muffled her screams, but the raw, guttural agony tore through the room.

She whipped her head back. Blood erupted from the socket, painting her face crimson.

Frantic tears spilled from her remaining eye. "Cleo!!" Brooks lunged at his camera, his face filling the splitscreen. "I uploaded it!

Why the hell did you touch her!" I snatched the freshly printed document and shoved it toward the lens. "Do I look stupid to you? It looks convincing, sure. But this?

This doesn't prove Hazel committed firstdegree murder!" I slammed the papers onto the floor. My boot ground them into the hardwood.

I locked eyes with the camera, my voice dropping to a dead, icy calm. "Stalling won't save her, Brooks." The remaining color drained from Brooks’s face.

The live chat went completely nuclear. [Your mom failed an insurance scam! Forcing him to fabricate murder evidence is actual perjury!] [Brooks is a legal god!

Everyone in the industry respects him!

You're the only one committing murder here!] [Release the hostage, psycho!] I just smiled and tapped the glass of my watch. "Six minutes left, darling." Brooks planted his hands on his desk, his knuckles turning white as he glared into the lens. "The case is closed!

What exactly do you want me to submit!" "You know exactly what." I matched his stare, my tone dropping below freezing. "If you really love your precious childhood bestie, you’ll upload the real evidence.

Fast." Brooks gritted his teeth, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "If I wanted to screw you over, I would have pawned you off on some cheap rookie associate!

Why the hell would I waste years of my life fighting your appeals!" I tilted my chin up. "Only you know the answer to that." The internet mob intensified.

Millions branded me a coldblooded monster, a delusional wife betraying her devoted husband. The LAPD hostage negotiators spammed my private messages with desperate, calming pleas.

I ignored them all.

I sat right beside Hazel, my boots resting in a pooling puddle of her blood, watching the second hand sweep across my watch. "Time's up." I slowly pushed myself out of the chair, the wood groaning in the suffocating silence.

Hazel stared up at me with her one good eye, raw terror vibrating through her body. "Cleo!" The voice cracked through the speakers like a whip. My neck snapped toward the monitor.

A new face stepped into Brooks's frame. "Gary!" The breath caught sharply in my throat. "Cleo, I analyzed Beatrice's case files from top to bottom.

Things aren't what you think." "Gary, what the hell are you talking about?" My uncle stood rigid before the camera, his posture reeking of selfrighteous authority. "As a forensic crime scene analyst, I ran the numbers on your mother's accident over a dozen times.

The hard truth is, the liability falls entirely on Beatrice." A sickening jolt hit my stomach. I stared at the screen, my throat constricting to the point of pain. "Gary.

Are you telling me my own mother faked an accident for cash?" Gary let out a heavy sigh. "Cleo, we have to respect the facts.

The tire marks and impact angles don't lie." "You're the one disrespecting her!" I pointed a trembling finger at the monitor. "She is your sister! Your own flesh and blood!

When we were so broke we couldn't afford groceries, she found a hundreddollar bill on the sidewalk and chased down the stranger to return it!

She breathed kindness into me from the day I was born.

You knew her for fifty years, and this is what you think of her?" Gary’s brow furrowed. "People change, Cleo." A hollow, jagged laugh scraped its way up my throat.

I yanked the thick cloth gag from Hazel’s mouth in one violent motion. "No.

You're the one who changed." "Hel—" Before Hazel could scream, my fingers clamped down on her jaw, brutally forcing it open. I shoved the steel pliers into her mouth. One. Two.

Three. The sickening crunch of roots snapping echoed through the room. Bloody teeth clattered onto the hardwood floor, scattering at my feet.

Chapter 3 "Aaaah!!" Hazel’s raw, earsplitting shrieks ripped through the room. Gary shoved his face closer to the webcam. "Enough! Stop it, Cleo!

Drop the pliers right now!!" I yanked the final root free. Hazel slumped forward, a hollow, whimpering mess. A thick river of crimson spilled from her lips.

Violent tremors wracked her frame. "Hazel…" Gary breathed. His pupils dilated wildly. My grip tightened on the bloodslicked metal.

I leveled a dead stare at the lens. "What's wrong, Gary? Did you know her all along?" Gary froze.

A split second later, the mask of righteous indignation slammed back into place. "Cleo!

You are dragging Beatrice’s legacy through the mud!" A low, broken laugh scraped its way out of my throat. I tapped the glass of my watch. "You've wasted three chances. Chance four.

Ten minutes on the clock. Go." I sank back into the wooden chair beside Hazel.

I twirled the heavy steel pliers between my fingers, letting the blood splatter across the floorboards. On the monitor, Brooks paced like a caged animal.

As the final thirty seconds ticked down, my voice cut through the silence. "Twentynine. Twentyeight. Twentyseven…" "There is no goddamn murder evidence!

What do you want me to upload!" Brooks screamed, tearing at his hair. The live chat erupted into a frenzy. [If the proof existed, anyone would hand it over by now!

You're literally forcing a highprofile lawyer to commit perjury!] [Exactly! She's trying to ruin Brooks's entire career!] [This bitch is pure evil!] "Five. Four…" "Cleo!!" "Three.

Two…" "Cleo, snap out of it!" "One…" "Mommy!" The small, trembling voice punched the air straight out of my lungs. I jolted upright.

The steel pliers clattered to the floor. "Finn…" My son's tearstreaked face filled the monitor, his little shoulders heaving with violent sobs. "Finn, did daddy bring you there?" My chest tightened.

I had explicitly ordered Seth to scrub every digital trace and keep my boy entirely shielded from this crossfire. Had Seth compromised the perimeter? "Mommy!

Grandma really did jump in front of Hazel's car on purpose!" The world tilted. Ice water flooded my veins. My breath hitched in the back of my throat.

The internet mob seized the moment. [Look at what you've done, Cleo! Dragging a toddler into your sick torture porn!] [Even her own kid is calling her out.

Are you seriously going to keep up this delusion? That's your flesh and blood!] My knuckles popped white as my fingers crushed the knife handle. "Finn, that is your grandmother.

The woman who sang you to sleep!

The woman who shattered her own leg fighting off a kidnapper just to keep you safe!" Finn wailed louder, choking on his tears. "Grandma told me she was going to pretend to get hit by the car for money!

I'm not lying! I promise I'm not lying! Please, Mommy, let Hazel go!" Brooks pulled Finn tightly against his chest, shielding the boy's face. "Cleo!

Are you really going to accuse your own son of lying?" My jaw locked so hard my teeth ached. "What exactly did you coach him to say?" [???

Bro, she is officially off her rocker.] [Now I know where those toxic, braindead Wattpad male leads come from. Art really does imitate life!] "Cleo!

If you won't even listen to Finn, who on earth can talk some sense into you!" Brooks bellowed, righteous fury radiating from his posture. I reached down.

My fingers twisted into Hazel's sweatdrenched hair. I jerked her head back, forcing her ruined, bloody face straight into the camera lens.

I traced the icy steel of the blade slowly across her throat. A cold smile stretched across my face. "Brooks, did you really think I wouldn't notice?

Did you think I missed those latenight texts you two traded while you were supposedly fighting my appeals?" Brooks’s eyes snapped wide open.

The color vanished from his cheeks. "Chance number four is gone!" I raised the steel blade high above Hazel’s remaining, terrified eye. "Mommy, wait!!" Finn thrust a crumpled envelope toward the webcam. "Grandma told me to give this to you before she went to heaven!" The tip of my knife stopped less than a millimeter from Hazel's trembling pupil.

Chapter 4 I stared at the crumpled letter in Finn’s small hand, the air thinning in my lungs. The ink spelled out a nightmare. Beatrice couldn't endure the terminal cancer.

The bonedeep agony. She had known Hazel constantly made my life a living hell. So, she chose the tires of Hazel’s car.

A twisted final act of motherly vengeance to ruin Hazel's life. My thumb traced the curves of the letters. Again and again. I searched for the hesitation of a forger. Nothing.

Even the slight, familiar drag of the pen at the end of each sentence—it was flawlessly Beatrice. "Mommy! Please come home!" Finn’s wails tore through the speakers.

Brooks pulled Finn tightly against his chest, his brow furrowed as he glared into the lens. "Cleo! I know you and Hazel have history, but you can't just slap a murder charge on her!

Beatrice was in the late stages of cancer! The painkillers stopped working months ago.

This choice makes sick, logical sense!" Brooks leaned closer. "I verified this ten different ways before I accepted the ruling! If you think I’m gaslighting you, fine.

But are you really going to call the son you raised a liar?" The steel knife slipped from my numb fingers. It clattered against the floorboards. Hazel flinched hard at the sound.

My knuckles turned white around the printed suicide note. Hot moisture blurred my vision, heavy drops blistering the ink on the page.

Her final, trembling words burned into my retinas. Cleo, Mom will always love you. Acid clawed up my throat. My chest caved in. Was I wrong?

Did she really throw herself at that windshield? "Cleo." Brooks’s voice dropped, shedding the aggressive courtroom bark. "Let her go.

Walk away right now, and I can negotiate a plea deal. I can get your sentence reduced." My fingers crushed the paper. Then, my eyes caught it. A single, microscopic inconsistency.

The blood roared in my ears. It was a forgery. I lunged. My fingers hooked into the raw corners of Hazel's lips, yanking outward with brutal force.

Flesh tore. "Mmph!!" Hazel's screams gurgled into a wet, inhuman gargle. Brooks's pupils dilated in horror. "Cleo!!" I flicked my wrist, checking the dial. "Chance number five.

The countdown starts now." "Psycho! You're a fucking psycho!" Brooks roared. His fist collided with his webcam. The splitscreen shattered into a spiderweb of digital static.

The LAPD negotiator fired off another automated DM: [We have a lock on your coordinates. Drop the weapon and surrender immediately!] Same script. Same bluff.

The live chat went absolutely feral. [The proof is literally right in her face! Total red flag!] [She’s just extorting them!

She’s been obsessed with his childhood bestie for years, and now she’s using her dead mom to eliminate the competition!] [Lethal injection!

Put this rabid dog down!] Nine agonizing minutes bled away. Brooks's voice cracked through the ruined audio feed, reduced to a desperate beg. "Cleo, please. Look at Finn.

Stop this madness. I'll block Hazel's number. I'll never speak to her again, okay?

Are you satisfied?" I stopped dead. "You actually think this is about me being jealous of your little side piece?" Brooks went completely silent. The tenth minute struck.

I grabbed Hazel by the chin, forcing her head up. "This time, we take a hand." I dragged her toward the heavy workbench.

I slammed her wrist onto the metal surface, locking the clamp down hard. My hand gripped the lever of the industrial buzzsaw.

The motor roared to life, the serrated teeth spinning into a lethal blur as I yanked it down toward her knuckles.

Hazel thrashed, her vocal cords shredding as she shrieked. "LAPD!" CRASH. The heavy oak door splintered off its hinges. "Police!

Keep your hands where I can see them!" I whipped my head around. Three tactical officers flooded the room.

Before I could blink, a heavy Kevlarclad body slammed into my ribs, driving me into the hardwood floor. Chapter 5 Brooks stormed through the splintered door.

He slammed his hand onto the kill switch, the heavy industrial saw grinding to a halt. He immediately pulled Hazel against his chest. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done?

You’re going to rot in a cell for the rest of your life." A heavy police boot pressed my cheek into the floorboards.

My arms were wrenched behind my back, the joints screaming in protest. I couldn't move a muscle.

I just lay there, watching Brooks gently lift the violently trembling woman onto a paramedic's stretcher.

Brooks lunged at me, his eyes bloodshot, but two tactical officers shoved him back. "If you somehow dodge lethal injection, Cleo, I swear to God I will use every ounce of my legal weight to make sure you never see daylight again!

You are going to pay for this!" The livestream chat blew up with people cheering him on. [Brooks is a legend!

We're starting a petition to lock her up!] [Zero tolerance for psychopaths!] It looked like I was actually going to get the needle. A laugh bubbled up my bruised throat.

It spilled out of me, sharp and uncontrollable. "You think this is funny?" Brooks snarled, his teeth grinding together. A sudden gasp sliced through the room.

The paramedic stumbled backward. The bloodsoaked, mutilated woman on the stretcher casually sat up. Brooks froze. The air sucked out of the room.

The woman who was supposed to be missing an eye and a mouthful of teeth reached up. Her fingers gripped the torn, bloody flesh of her cheek—and pulled.

A thick layer of silicone peeled away, revealing a flawless, entirely different face underneath. Brooks stumbled back, the color draining from his face. "Who… who the hell are you