Indebted - Piper Stone Page 0,7

criminal, incapable of doing any of the things I’d planned.

There would be no graduation ceremony.

No dinners out with friends.

Or parties in celebration of a well achieved accomplishment.

There was only the reality of a future I’d yet to comprehend.

I was a prisoner and would be for an extended period of time.

I placed my hands on the table, the lump in my throat difficult to swallow. I couldn’t believe the number of people in the courtroom; angry men and women who would just as soon nail me to a cross. I could hear their nasty whispers, the wretched words I’d heard more than once.

She should fry.

She’s nothing but a monster.

Find her guilty.

I’d never been in trouble a day in my life. Not one. The embarrassment was suffocating, creating tremendous heat rising from my neck to my cheeks.

I could feel every pair of eyes on me, condemning my actions even though they knew nothing about me. I was innocent. Innocent! The bastard I’d trusted had played me, and I’d been gullible enough to fall for his scheme. He was the true monster. Bobby Rivers. A thug in designer clothes. If only I’d realized that sooner.

I would never forget seeing him choking as he struggled to breathe, everyone screaming around me.

Then I’d realized the knife was in my hand, my clothes covered in blood. Why couldn’t I remember anything leading to that moment? I could never hurt anyone. Never.

As my legs began to tremble, I heard the sound of male laughter coming from behind me. I twisted until I was able to see my attorney, his boisterous hand gestures a reminder of a life I once had.

As well as freedom.

I slunk into the chair, fisting my hands, expecting Mr. Cantor to sit down next to me. When he didn’t appear after a full minute, I dared take another look behind me. The door was once again closed and there was no sign of him. I could almost feel the oversized wall clock ticking, only one hundred and twenty seconds away from my life being stripped away from me. What the hell was so important that my attorney couldn’t at least give me a few minutes before the judge walked in, prepared to impose the sentence as recommended by a jury who’d taken less than two hours to come to? Stephen Cantor had been my father’s attorney for years, but I’d only met him after my arrest.

In my eyes, he was a pompous asshole, but there’d been no other choice.

My heart felt twisted, my stomach churning. My wonderful and loving father had died while I was behind bars awaiting trial. I hadn’t even been allowed to go to his funeral. I bit back a cry, my body rocking. I missed him so much. He’d been my entire world. I had no brothers or sisters, no aunts or uncles. No one but my father.

And he’d been taken from me. What was the last gift I’d given him? Humiliation.

I closed my eyes, trying to shove away the despair. I was all alone.

When Stephen finally sat down, in addition to his briefcase, he had a folder in his hand. His expression was stoic, a sneer on his lips. What was going on?

“Is something wrong?” I whispered.

“Not necessarily. Ms. Toro, there might be a way for you to remain out of prison, but you’re going to need to decide within minutes.”

“What are you talking about?”

Before he had a chance to answer, the door behind the bench opened, the judge walking in.

“All rise.”

I was lightheaded, my eyes still locked on the folder. Stephen had assured me there was no possibility the judge would let me go with just probation, the recommended sentence six to twelve years for a crime I didn’t commit. I was nothing more than a scapegoat. My world was swirling, my mind unable to understand what Stephen could mean.

“This court is now in session, the honorable Judge Michael Taylor presiding.”

I heard the words of the bailiff, but his voice echoed, matching the hard hammering of my heart.

“Sit down,” Stephen hissed, finally forced to grip my arm and yank. “Don’t say anything yet.”

What the hell could I say? If there was a chance to remain out of prison, I would listen to the man my father had trusted. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t spend years behind bars. Tears threatened to form, giving away just how terrified I actually was.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

The judge smacked his gavel, shifting his harsh gaze in my direction. “We are here for the