Days before my wedding, my father tore my bridal gown and smashed a hammer into my face so my sister could steal my billionaire fiancé. My mother sneered, “You’re older; yield your life to your sister.” They thought destroying my face would destroy my wedding, but six witnesses, one blood-soaked hammer, and a forgotten family document were about to make their vicious plan cost them everything.

The following morning at 10:00 AM, the county courthouse was swarming with reporters, news vans, and curious onlookers.

I walked through the side entrance of the building, flanked by Adrian and two private security guards. I wore a high-collared emerald green dress, my hair swept to the right side to partially frame my face, though the white medical dressing on my left cheek remained completely visible.

Inside Courtroom 3B, my mother and Chloe were already seated at the defense table alongside three top-tier criminal defense attorneys led by Richard Vance—a ruthless lawyer known for defending corrupt politicians.

My father sat in the prisoner box, dressed in a orange jumpsuit, his hands handcuffed to a belly chain. He looked exhausted, his hair unkempt, his face sullen.

When my mother saw me walk into the courtroom holding Adrian’s arm, her jaw tightened. She looked at the bandage on my face, then looked at Adrian’s stoic expression, clearly trying to read whether Adrian had abandoned me.

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Patricia Vance," the bailiff announced.

Judge Vance, an elderly woman with sharp blue eyes and a reputation for zero tolerance regarding violent crime, took her seat at the bench.

"We are here for a bail review in the matter of State v. Harold Mercer," Judge Vance stated, scanning the paperwork before her. "Mr. Mercer is charged with first-degree felony assault, domestic violence, and witness tampering."

Richard Vance, the defense attorney, immediately stood up. "Your Honor, my client is a respected businessman and a pillar of the community. What occurred two days ago was a tragic, high-stress domestic dispute—a terrible accident arising from wedding preparations. Mr. Mercer has no prior criminal record. We request immediate release on personal recognizance."

"An accident?" Nathan stood up from the prosecutor's table, plugging a small USB drive into the court's audio system. "Your Honor, with the court's permission, I would like to submit State's Exhibit A—an unedited audio recording captured at the scene by an eyewitness."

Judge Vance nodded. "Proceed."

Nathan pressed play.

My father’s recorded voice boomed through the quiet courtroom speakers, crisp and clear:

“That was the point.”

Followed immediately by my mother’s cold voice:

“Adrian is marrying a beautiful woman. If that woman is no longer beautiful, perhaps he’ll reconsider. Get changed, Chloe. We need photographs before the swelling gets worse.”

Gasps echoed through the public gallery. Several reporters frantically began typing on their laptops.

In the prisoner box, my father hung his head, unable to look up. Beside him, Chloe covered her face with her hands, trembling violently.

Judge Vance’s face turned into a mask of pure fury as she stared down at my parents.

"Mr. Vance," Judge Vance said, her voice dripping with ice as she addressed the defense attorney. "You define a deliberate, premeditated attempt to disfigure a young woman with a hammer as a 'tragic domestic accident'?"

"Your Honor—" the attorney tried to speak.

"Bail is denied," Judge Vance slammed her gavel down with a sharp CRACK. "The defendant will remain in custody until trial. Furthermore, I am issuing an immediate, temporary order of protection forbidding Eleanor Mercer and Chloe Mercer from coming within five hundred yards of Evelyn Mercer."

Mom jumped out of her seat, her composure completely shattering. "Your Honor! You can't do this! That is my daughter! We have a family estate to manage!"

"Sit down, Mrs. Mercer!" Judge Vance warned, glaring at her. "Or I will have the bailiffs hold you in contempt right now!"