Chapter 182: The Edge of the Blade

Justin’s POV

My gut twisted violently. "What about your ground team?" I asked, trying not to show my panicked state

"They’re already in position around the estate." he said coldly

"Good."

"I’m receiving real-time telemetry from the unit leads now." A subtle ping sounded through his audio feed. "Looks like the perimeter is fully established."

I nodded tightly. "Okay."

"Do you have the live security application open on your phone for your grandparents’ property?"

"Yes." I said, picking up my laptop immediately

"Good." He sounded satisfied. "Bring it up."

I tapped my phone, opened the encrypted home security app, and pulled up the primary camera feeds for the estate. The high-definition screen rendered the scene clearly: an empty, sprawling driveway, closed iron gates, and quiet surrounding woods. Everything looked completely serene.

"I have it," I said.

"Good. Keep that screen active."

"You want me sitting here watching the camera?" I asked, a bit confused

"I want you to watch the show unfold."

I frowned deeply at the glass. "This doesn’t feel like a show."

"It isn’t," his voice went dead serious, dropping all light tone. "But when the hammer falls, I want you to see the exact moment it happens."

I looked over at my lawyer. He had pulled his chair right up to the edge of the desk, his eyes glued to the small glowing screen resting between us.

"I’ll contact you the second it’s wrapped up," the investigator said.

"Okay."

"And Justin?"

"Yeah?"

"Don’t touch a damn thing."

A faint, grim smile touched my lips. "I’ll behave."

"You better."

The line went dead with a sharp click.

For several long seconds, heavy silence hung over the office. Neither my lawyer nor I moved.

Finally, he leaned back in his leather seat, letting out a long whistle. "This is absolute madness."

I kept my eyes fixed on the empty driveway on the screen. "Yeah."

"Your investigator is a whole different brand of intense. I would love to hire him at some point for his services"

"I’ve learned it’s better not to question his methods," I murmured.

My lawyer let out a short, dry laugh. "Probably the smartest move you’ve made today."

I left the live feed running in the middle of the desk so we both had a clear view, and forced myself to sit back down. "Let’s get back to it."

We dove back into the legal strategy. We discussed the upcoming pre-trial hearing, carefully reviewed the financial fraud documentation, and mapped out the exact sequence of my prospective testimony.

At one point, my lawyer leaned across the table, his tone softening as he brought up my past. "When you take that stand, Justin, please do not attempt to protect yourself or soften the blow by minimizing what Diane did to you as a kid."

I looked up, my chest tightening. "I honestly don’t know how much of it my brain has blocked out." I clearly did not want to remember the abuse, both verbally and physically that happened to me in the hands of that woman

"And that’s completely okay," he reassured me gently. "You don’t need to manufacture or force anything. You simply tell the court what you vividly remember. If there are details you only discovered through these files later in life, state that clearly. The legal distinction between direct memory and secondary evidence matters immensely."

I nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"And most importantly," he added, looking me dead in the eye, "do not turn your time on that stand into a performance of blind revenge."

My eyes drifted back down to the small screen on the desk. "I don’t care about revenge." that was a big lie I kept telling my self

He studied my face closely.

"I just want the absolute truth on the record," I said quietly. "I want everyone to see what she did."

"That is precisely what will win this case." He pulled another thick file into view. "We’ll conduct a full mock examination before the court date. I won’t let you step into that courtroom emotionally overwhelmed and losing sight of the facts that will lock her away."

"Thank you." I said, my voice smaller than normal.

We kept working. The hours stretched on, the conversation shifting seamlessly from the abuse charges to the offshore accounts, the corporate shares, and the missing documentation.

Time seemed to lose all meaning. Every few minutes, my eyes would dart down to the security feed, hoping to cath something in real time.

Nothing.

The estate driveway remained completely silent under the afternoon sun. The tall iron gates stood shut. The trees barely swayed in the wind.

Eventually, as the tension wore me down, I stopped checking every ten seconds, forcing my focus entirely onto the legal papers spread across the wood.

We were right in the middle of analyzing a complex wire transfer when my lawyer abruptly stopped speaking mid-sentence.

I looked up at him. "What is it?"

He didn’t answer. He just slowly lifted a hand and pointed a finger down at the glowing screen.

I turned my head toward the phone.

At first, the feed looked identical to how it had looked for the last two hours. But then, a dark shadow stretched across the corner of the primary frame near the lower fence line.

I leaned forward, my breath catching straight in my throat. My heart started hammering a frantic, deafening rhythm against my ribs.

Another sudden movement blurred the edge of the lens.

Someone was approaching the main gates on foot.

I stared at the screen, every muscle in my body locking up tight as the figure stepped fully into the camera’s line of sight.

My lawyer slowly set his pen down on the wood, his breath hitching.

The cold air in the office felt instantly suffocating.

The shadowy figure paused right beside the iron latch, looking around the quiet perimeter.

I stared at the screen, my blood roaring like a wild current in my ears.

"It’s happening," I whispered.