120_The stepmonster’s Sentence

Eloise

I sat stiff-backed on the bench, the leather cushion beneath me groaning every time I shifted my weight. My palms were damp, not because I was nervous, but because I was waiting for something I’d been craving since I was sixteen: justice. The courthouse buzzed with whispers. Strangers leaned close to murmur about “the Sinclair family scandal” as though it were a daytime soap. Of course it was. Their voices wove together like gnats buzzing in the ...