The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back) novel Chapter 171

The Verdict Day

HANNAH’S POV:

A MONTH LATER:

“You look absolutely amazing, my love.”

Elijah’s compliment made me with a smile as I shuffled around my vanity, trying to decide between two pairs of. earrings. I was nervous about today, and I was dealing with it by obsessing over details that probably didn’t matter.

But apparently, a simple compliment wasn’t enough for Elijah this morning.

I heard him move behind me, felt his presence before his hands even touched me. Then he was there, standing directly behind me, and he gently grabbed me by my throat in that way that always made my pulse race.

He tilted my head back and kissed me deeply, possessively, taking his time like we had all morning instead of needing to leave in twenty minutes.

I always found it incredibly sexy whenever he did that, so when we finally pulled apart, I just licked my lips slowly, tasting him, watching his eyes darken.

“So sexy,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. He mirrored my action, licking his own lips with deliberate slowness. “And you taste so good. Like coffee and that vanilla lip gloss you always wear.”

I turned around in my chair to face him properly, raising one eyebrow in playful accusation. “You’ve been moving real freaky lately, Elijah William Martinez. Are you trying to get me pregnant again?”

The second his middle name left my mouth, he groaned and glanced at me with that look that said he both loved and hated when I used it. We both burst out laughing.

“Really?” he said, shaking his head as he turned back to the mirror to adjust his tie. “You just had to add my middle name, didn’t you? You know I hate that.”

I’d tried to be present for most of the trial, wanting to see justice served, wanting to look them in the eyes and show them I’d survived despite their best efforts. But I’d only managed to attend the first day of the trial and then sporadically after that.

Every time I saw them, especially Janet, I felt this overwhelming surge of anger that I couldn’t quite control. Therapy was helping me work through it, but it was still intense.

The people I’d spent my entire life loving, the people I’d considered my family despite how they treated me, had tried to kill me. And there had never been a single flash of regret in any of their eyes. Not once did I see any of them reconsider their decisions or show even a hint of remorse.

They’d had no mercy on me when I was tied to that chair. No mercy when they’d locked me in that burning building. No mercy when I’d begged.

So during my cross-examination, when I’d been asked what I wanted to see happen as the victim in this case, Id looked directly at the jury and said clearly, “I would be pleased if they served the maximum sentence possible under the law. Because if they could do this to someone who grew up as their daughter and sister, someone they lived with for over two decades, they would do so much worse to a complete stranger. They’re dangerous and they don’t deserve to walk free.”

They’d glared at me with such hatred during my testimony, those same stank looks I’d endured my whole life. But I didn’t care anymore. I was done wondering why I wasn’t enough. Done questioning why they hated me so much. Done with all the endless ‘why’ questions that had plagued me.