Ella
The rhythm of my heels echoed through the polished marble hallways of the courthouse.
Today, I was representing Logan in a preliminary hearing, a chance to sit face to face with the opposing counsel and discuss the evidence that had been uncovered thus far. The evidence I had, courtesy of Logan’s credible witnesses and backed by solid statements, made me confident.
I had spent the last month working like a dog to uncover the mystery surrounding this murder, and one thing was clear: Logan was not related to the murder in any way, and I had the evidence to prove it.
This was a winnable case, and I had every intention of proving Logan’s innocence.
But as I turned the corner, I froze, taken aback by the figure before me. Standing just outside the conference room was
