“Get your hands off me!” Josephine hissed, pulling her arm away.

The bailiff did not hesitate.

He grabbed her wrist firmly, pulled her arm behind her back, and clicked the silver cuff into place.

The sound of the metal locking was loud and sharp in the quiet room.

The second bailiff secured Melanie’s hands behind her back.

Melanie was weeping openly now, her shoulders shaking, her head hanging down.

“Leo, help us!” Melanie sobbed, looking toward her brother.

“Tell them it’s a mistake! Please, Leo!”

Leo did not look away, but his face was carved from stone.

He stood beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder, his grip steady.

“You did this to yourselves,” Leo said, his voice quiet but carrying across the room.

“You hurt my son.”

“I have no family but Grace and Sam.”

Josephine stared at her son, her face twisting into a mask of bitter resentment.

“You are nothing,” she spat at him.

“You threw away your own blood for her.”

The bailiffs did not let her finish.

They guided both women toward the side door of the courtroom that led to the holding cells.