Summary: Gregory Edgeworth, before his death, wrote on his journal about a certain case and a certain woman that made him walk the path of truth and change his career as a Defense Attorney. Unfortunately, this story does not have a happy ending and will become Gregory's biggest regret he had in his entire life.

If you are reading this journal right now, that must mean I passed away before the fifteen year stature of limitation. You have to understand that the man you are reading about is not the man know now. Regardless, you deserve the truth and I will give you the full truth of what happened on April 12, 1990 – 1992. This story is a story about a woman, who changed my life for the better. This very same woman I also led to her death by my very own hands. If only I had known back then what I know today, if only I had set her to her death.

Her name was Rachel Neuslayday. She was a reporter for the Timely News. She came as bold and sophisticated. I had always been envious of the way she looked at me with those icy eyes that sent chills down my spine. Yet, she was blunt. Her voice cut you like a samurai's blade. Her hair was often pulled back, glittering with a snow color that went well with her velvet suit and skirt. Yet, when she smiled, it was always filled with strong confidence. I always saw her picture on the newspaper, never paying that much attention, but she was very popular among the people of the district.

I wasn't as brilliant as Rachel was, I was a detective, the Chief Detective Gregory Edgeworth. I grew up under rough conditions with my father before using my hardworking money I got from selling hard drugs to study law, then went to boot camp. From there, I entered as a police officer before working my way up to becoming a Detective, then Chief Detective. I constantly worked to the bone to get where I was at. There's nothing more satisfying than knowing you were able to work out of the slums of Las Angeles with your own two hands. That's what I thought at the time.

As a Detective, I worked alongside Prosecutor Blaise Debeste. We go far back to when we studied together at Themis Legal Academy, which had a Detective curriculum at the time. We studied law, but he was studying to become a Prosecuting Attorney. I studied to become a Detective. He wasn't very smart, so I often made up for what he couldn't achieve. With my help, I was able to help him get where he is now. Where he lacks in smarts, I made up for that. Where I lacked in social skills and money, he made up for me. We were like bread and butter.

I had a sidekick or an Assistant Detective under me, Detective Badd. He is the most loyal detective you will find on the force. I'd recommend him to anyone, even now while he still thinks negatively of me. I don't blame him for not forgiving me, after everything I've done. I did keep a lot of what I did under the rug until the time was right. I already have enough regrets as it is. I'm sure, whoever reads this, will eventually tell him or he will know, if he inherits this journal after my death.

I suppose it's time I started things off at the beginning. I was in my office checking in reports and anything filed on record. Much of this I worked on was from Chief Prosecutor Debeste. The case he was working on at the time was a defendant accused of manslaughter. Many of his cases were typical, but sometimes they weren't. He often would inform me if certain cases needed to be placed in his favor. In other words, forgery.

Even now, the fact I was involved in that and proudly worked with him sickens me. I only did so, because I owed him my livelihood. I was where I was because of him. He came from old money and had power and influence. This was what I did not have. Because of him, I landed the job I was at, Chief Detective. The same was vice versa with him, due to cheating for him on his tests at the University. I was proud of my work, even the forgeries I was able to accomplish.

Little did I know, there was someone who caught me with my hands in the cookie jar. Not just anyone, a certain reporter with a brilliant mind that wasn't afraid to speak the truth. This woman would be the end of Chief Detective Gregory Edgeworth.

I heard the phone ring from my office, picking it up, I answered, "hello, Criminal Affairs, this is Chief Detective Edgeworth speaking."

"Greg, we've got a problem. I'm sending you the information and you can do your magic," Blaise spoke over the phone. Of course, it was typical business and we purposely spoke subtly in order to avoid accusations of forgery.

"What kind of problem are we talking?" I asked, turning and looking out the window to my right.

"Big. It seems someone spotted those documents I sent you last weekend."

"WHAT!?! Those... Debeste, I told you to stamp them under classified or else someone will look through them."

"It's not that. She has a picture of our last drop-off. We will need to find an alternate method of transferring documents."

Panicking, I searched through the window and at the building across from me, specifically at the window one floor above mine that had a single clothes line. Thinking quickly, I untied the line from my end, allowing it to drop. I made sure there was no one below in the alleyway between Criminal Affair sand the building across from my window.

"For now, I will pick up the documents from your office," I said.

"And, you think that woman isn't going to follow you?"  Blaise asked, sounding frustrated.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what else you want me to do. She's just a reporter, Debeste. All she has are words."

"You're naive, Edgeworth. Words is all it takes from her. Have you seen her following? She's the real deal. If something isn't done, you can kiss your job goodbye."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'll send you the documents through a more secretive method she won't suspect and I will take care of the rest."

"I swear Debeste, if this is another case where-"

"What else do you have to lose, Edgeworth!? It's either me or you!"

Gritting my teeth, I sighed, "fine. Just hurry it up. I'm a busy man."

"Of course, Mr. Chief Detective. The documents will be sent to your office straight away."

"Thank you. I'll talk to you soon. Bye," I said before hanging up.

I sighed. Doing this kind of thing for Debeste wasn't anything new to me. It was sad that we couldn't use our usual mailing line like before to transfer documents. Though, just like he promised, I did find the documents in my office. Though, instead of being at my window, it was on the floor in front of the entryway. It seemed that he found a way to slide the documents under the door. He wasn't very smart, the secret mailing system was my idea, but he was very influential. No one would think otherwise.

Reading the documents, it was a report against Rachel Neuslayday for a series of murders by her silver car on Vincent Ave. The total of people murdered was 10. Of course, there were many witnesses that spotted the car and the driver that matched the description of the woman. I knew it wasn't her. Blaise made it clear that he intended on pinning the blame on her to prevent rumors of us being involved in collaborating in manipulating and forging evidence.

I suppose whoever is reading this must be asking why I would be involved in such a criminal act. As I stated previously, I was a different man than the one you see. When I first started the business with Blaise Debeste, I was a single, lonely man. He was the only partner and friend I had. My father was a drug addict that hardly showed me any love, while my sister lived the luxury life with my mother, who left my father and me. I refused to talk to either of them and held bitter feelings against them. Blaise was my only friend and family.

As time passed, I grew less convicted and guilty of what I was doing. When you do criminal acts enough times, it no longer feels wrong or convicting. It can even change you. Nothing ever mattered to me, besides my job. It's how I was able to put a roof over my head and gain a better lifestyle. I no longer wanted to live the life my father lived. I wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted to prove my mother and sister wrong. Neither are excusable, but that was the man I was back then. I sat behind the desk of a powerful man, while allowing innocents be charged falsely with falsified evidence created by my own hands.

The forgery was simple. I first had to recreate the blueprints of the damaged car to fit the crime. I would also tweak the autopsy reports to favor the prosecution. It only took a few words typed on the keyboard. I did the same with the evidence as well. Afterwards, I would go to the morgue and/or evidence room to carefully manipulate the evidence or corpse to fit the description. I did so in a way to where they were such small changes that no one would give notice. Because this was done right when the evidence was sent and before it was checked, non of the other detectives or forensics gave notice. As the Chief Detective, I was given power and liberties many only dream of having. I had Debeste to thank for that.

That is what I did. I went to the car and created the damages where they would specifically be located: from the windows, to the car doors, to even the most specific cracks and tears from both the outside and inside the vehicle. For each of the ten victims, I used all the necessary tools often used for autopsy to manipulate the corpses, including the pieces of the damaged car. They were ran over by a car, but with my forging, I was able to make it to where it looked like the car that ran over them could only be from the specific car used. Lastly, there were the pictures that had been said to be taken by accident, while the driver was driving. For this, it took just a simple discoloring to hide certain features that would prove the driver wasn't the defendant. The pictures wouldn't be decisive evidence, but it wasn't needed. The car and Autopsy Report of the 10 victims would be the decisive evidence.

From there, my deed was done. To this day, I still consider Rachel Neuslayday my biggest failure. She was smart. She knew what I had done and yet...

It was my job to interrogate her. My other detectives had not successfully been able to get anything out of her. I even made sure she would be interrogated enough until she was tired and worn. Yet, even then, she still held just as much energy as before. She refused to speak. That was her greatest weapon: her words. She would not even defend herself against such accusations, other than it's a trap. She wasn't wrong.

Entering the interrogation room, I was met with cold, piercing eyes that would haunt me for the rest of my days until the day I die. I've heard rumors from my colleagues, talking about her attractiveness and beauty, but she was neither of those things. She wasn't at the moment at least. She was cold, collective and intimidating with eyes that matched her icy nature very well.

"I'm hearing from my men you're refusing to talk," I started out, trying to match her cold stare, which made the room drop in temperature. "Still refusing to talk, huh? That can change. You being a lady makes-"

"Puppet," Rachel said. That one word took me by surprise.

"What?"

"Who is your puppeteer? I want to know the man pulling the strings, Mr. Edgeworth," Rachael calmly with a voice that could break the toughest chains.

"How dare you! I am the Chief Detective Edgeworth! I am proud of my work I've build myself on."

"Is that so?" Rachel asked, eyes that seemed to stare into my soul. I felt a chill, a strange one indeed. "Tell me then, Mr. Chief Detective Edgeworth, what are your accomplishments, if I may inquire?"

"They... I know what you're trying to do. Gaining information from me won't work. I'm the one interrogating you."

"Then, interrogate me. Of course, that requires you finding something to interrogate me of."

"You will confess to your murderous crimes!"

"Of murdering ten victims by my car yesterday morning when I was supposed to cover a News story about suspicion of forgery and smuggling classified documents in Criminal Affairs. You're the genius detective, what does this tell you?"

"The evidence speaks for itself, Ms. Neuslayday. Your car was found with only your fingerprints on the steering wheel, along with blood and skin tissue of the ten victims. There's also a camera taking three photos of you driving during the incident. The photos may not be focused enough to be called decisive evidence, but the car and autopsy report are certainly decisive enough, don't you think?"

"...."

"Not speaking?"

"Puppet."

"I'm not a puppet, now speak!"

"You are. So far, you have avoided the topic of my latest coverage, which would cover my alibi. Being a detective, certainly, you would require proof that I was covering any story and yet have not asked for it. Unless, of course, my proof would be bad against you," Rachel smirked confidently and coldly. I could feel anger boiling in me, but I couldn't refute. "It would also prove that the car in question is not mine, but my sister's. True, I may or may not have used it, but that would be a matter of asking the owner of the vehicle. Why haven't you called my sister? She'd certainly be a valuable witness and a possible suspect, especially if you're talking about someone murdering 10 victims." I could also not refute that either. "But, what gets me is your motive. We've never met. You don't even know me. It's possible your motive may not require our acquaintanceship, yet you know little of my work and what I do. If you knew, you would have known or asked about my latest scoop. I can only conclude that you are just the Queen in the player's chessboard. If I can take out the Queen, that will gain me closer to the King, who has set me under false charges."

"Queen of the player's chessboard!?"

"Chess is my favorite game. Do you play it?" Rachael asked me. Her smile became confident. I had never seen such confidence.

"Yes. Chief Prosecutor Debeste and I play a few games."

"I see. How often do you play?"

"I'd say once in a while."

"I never knew a Chief Detective would spend such valuable time to play a harmless game with the Chief Prosecutor. I find that fascinating."

"Detective and Prosecutor partnership is very common, especially among chiefs."

"I see. So, you have a common partnership with Chief Prosecutor Debeste. He must be the one pulling the strings," Rachael smirked lightly as I then realized, much to my shame, that I had revealed my partnership with Debeste and this brought her one step closer to revealing the identity of the one that set her up.

"You... You set me up!"

"Touche, Detective. It's called Logic Chess. I use it as part of my work. Using my chess skills, I can use my words alone to dig out the truth out of the most tight-lipped people, including detectives. It would do well for you to use it."

"You...!" I glared with frustration in my voice.

"I'm not the enemy. You are a mere puppet. You've just not realized it yet."

"I won't continue this any longer!" I finally said, not wanting to hear anymore from that... woman.

"Debeste is the driver," Rachael said. I froze, sweat building on the back of my neck as soon as I heard that. "He's done this to many people. He's murdered many innocent lives, then would send it to your department to create forgeries. I'd like to believe you knew this from the beginning, but seeing you face to face, I don't see the eyes of someone capable to murdering innocent lives. I only see a puppet allowing his puppeteer to pull the strings."

"SHUT UP! I WILL EXPOSE YOU IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!!" I felt my voice raging at her.

It felt as if a gust of wind had blown and yet this woman would not heed. She gave me a small smirk, then a giggle. I hated it, then it turned into a genuine smile.

"You have nice eyes," Rachael finally said, which made me speechless. She caught me of guard with her subtle flirt before reverting back to her cold stare. "Question your King, Prosecutor Debeste. The truth is like alcohol, sanitizes the wound, but also comes with pain. The bigger the wound, the stronger the sting. Even you cannot ignore the truth hidden from your eyes. As I said, you have nice eyes."

".... we'll talk later," I finally said before leaving.

I couldn't deny it, but Rachael's words were powerful. I could feel my cheeks warm as soon as I closed the door behind me. I had been flirted with before by witnesses, female colleagues, even that Oldbag lady. Though, I was never taken in by their words. They were hallow. They did not know me. Yet, Rachael's comment about my eyes was enough to make me listen, even believe them. It was no wonder she was attractive. She certainly got me to blush and that was an accomplishment.

Sighing, I returned back to my office. Rachael's words never left me. 'Even you cannot ignore the truth from your eyes.' That was certainly enough to make it impossible for me to forget her. It was embarrassing to say the least. Though, I wasn't going to give up just like that. I had to find out more about Rachael Neuslayday; any articles she may've written in the Newspaper.

As part of the investigation, I was given full permission to look into every article about Rachael Neuslayday. Her articles were certainly stories to behold. They weren't like the tabloids or political reports. They were articles about events that went on in Las Angeles. Many were interviews, trials that commenced, major stories that needed coverage and even revealing scoops questioning the existence of paranormal activity in ways no one ever thought of.

I read every article, while drinking my tea. Just like with the interrogation, her words were strong and sharp. She never missed a beat. She always asked questions about events that occurred, going into the heat of the story in order to find the truth. She questioned everything, every nook and cranny. She took photos of evidence of anything that proved her story. She wasn't just a reporter, she was a genius... a detective.

'The truth is like alcohol, sanitizes the wound, but also comes with pain.'

Truth. What is truth? I always lived by success. That was all I needed in my life, to not return to the slums with my father, who had a collection of needles on hand. This woman lived by the truth. The truth landed her there, behind bars, under false accusations. It was unfair, yes, but that's how it was. It was her fault for getting into business she had no part of.

And yet, I could not ignore the phrases that haunted my mind: 'Debeste is the driver' and 'You are a mere puppet.' Blaise wasn't using me! I'm not a puppet! I worked blood, sweat and tears to get where I am from a drug addicted father! Sure, I relied on Debeste's money and influence, but... 'You are a puppet.' UGH! 'Debeste is the driver.' SHUT UP!

For the first time in my life, I began to doubt.

About a month had passed and Rachael Neuslayday already appeared in at least three trials at this point. Work was like a chore afterwards. For the entire time, I was just hoping and praying that I could avoid anything from Blaise. I just needed time to think and not worry about him. I knew the moment I got word from him, things would only grow worse. I also felt like I owed him for getting me where I was. Ironically, I no longer enjoyed my job. All I could think about were the words out of that woman with the icy eyes.

I read every article Rachael ever wrote and non of them told falsehoods. Sure, some of them included opinions, but she always made that clear before writing them. Any article she wrote, she always had some evidence or photos to back them up. There was no denying that Rachael was a powerful woman. No truth was hidden from her, even truths I was covering up.

The more I thought about the articles and words that she said, the more I began realizing that she was right. I wanted to know the truth and there was truth hidden from me. Perhaps I always knew that every time Blaise asked me to forge or manipulate evidence for him in his favor. Though, at the time, all I cared about was my job. It didn't matter how it effected others. Even now, I still somewhat felt this way.

Regardless, compared to last time, I wanted to know why Blaise hid so much from me. Why did he always keep the truth of the real murderers and homicides from me. If I was to forge evidence, didn't I deserve to know? There was also the question if, knowing he was the one creating those murders that I pinned on other people, would I still work for him? Did I really owe Blaise that much? Yes, I owed him that much and I would still work for him, knowing he was the real murderer.

That was when I felt sick for the first time in my many years of my career. My hands were shaking as I began realizing this revelation. It didn't matter, it never mattered. I would have still worked with Blaise Debeste, even while knowing he was setting up these murders. I would do it, because I owed him that much for putting me in the position I was in. I really am a monster and I will be held responsible for the imprisonment and executions of the people falsely accused under false evidence, including Rachael Neuslayday's imprisonment.

I wanted to make things right. I wanted to change. I didn't want to live like this with this sick feeling in my stomach. I wasn't just like my father, who thought of no one else but himself; like my mother and sister, who couldn't love anyone but themselves. I was worse. I was a murderer and a criminal that should have been charged and given a life sentence. The problem is that much of me didn't want to change. If I did, I would lose everything.

"I'm a coward," I muttered to myself before hearing a knock on the door. "Come in!" I composed myself, hoping that wasn't Blaise on the other side of that door. Much to my luck, it was just my disciple, Tyrell Badd.

"Chief, I just finished interrogating the defendant. She refuses to admit to anything. Keeps saying it's a trap," Tyrell said, sucking on his sucker. I felt slightly sicker, knowing what kind of a person I really was and that this man,one of the greatest detectives on the force, looked up to me with such high regards.

"That's what the other detectives are telling me. Even I could hardly get a word out of her. She's a tough one," I said, sorting out the papers in my hands. Even while looking at the clean tan of my detective's coat, I could already seethe blood and dirtiness from all the forgery and obstruction of justice I had committed.

"... yes," Tyrell replied. He could see that something was on my mind. He never asked me, being he knew I wasn't one that tolerated prying, even though I'm a detective.

"Badd, I need you to deliver the defendant to my office. I'm going to try a different tactic," I ordered. From the expression Tyrell made, I could tell he was suspicious of me.

"I want to know, just what are you trying to do?"

"It's not an interrogation tactic, if that is your concern. More that I believe she is hiding something from us, because of a hidden truth we've overlooked. Her claim about there being a trap cannot be any coincidence," I explained. I wasn't lying. Rachael knew what Debeste and I did.

"Even so, can her words be trusted?"

"Whether it can be or not, as detectives it would be unwise for us to overlook something as concerning as this."

"Hmph, you're the chief. I'll have her in your office right away," Tyrell said, leaving out the door.

If Rachael knew more than I did, I needed to know the truth. At this point, I didn't know what else to do. I could allow Rachael's trial to continue its path before she found herself behind bars and be forever haunted by her words she left in my heart or I could go deeper into this rabbit hole. I wanted nothing more than for this sickness to go away. If I was to be a monster, then I needed to affirm myself that I was. I rather would embrace the monster that I was or I would change myself completely and save this woman that planted these seeds of doubt inside my heart.

Every man and woman enters a point in their life when he or she must make a decision. This decision can ultimately decide who they are. I cannot say if the decision I made the moment Rachael entered into my office was my ultimate decision, but it was a decision. I never wanted to make a decision like this. I wanted things to continue how they were. I hate change and even now I still hate it.

Hearing the door open, I found Tyrell leading the young woman in my office with handcuffs. Her eyes were just as icy as ever. They were also just as sharp. I could feel the blade of those eyes across my neck as if they could slice through meat any moment. It was enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I knew what kind of a person I was now, but how long had she known?

"Thank you. I will take it from here," I said, looking directly at my protegee.

Staring right back at me with a long pause, Tyrell replied, "I'll be waiting outside." From there, he left, closing the door behind him.

There was a long pause that filled the room with tension. What should I do? Should I embrace the monster in me and corner her until she becomes trapped behind iron bars? Should I side with her and make up for forging the evidence against her? I had to make the decision. I couldn't be stuck in the gray area no longer. I couldn't just decide to avoid this and pretend it never happened. This was my life, my choice.

Staring into my soul, Rachael smiled very amusingly. I felt irritation inside me. It was like this woman was mocking me. Just what is it that amuses her about facing me into my office with this pointless staring contest?

"You amuse me," Rachael finally said, perhaps to break the ice.

"Oh? What's so amusing about me?" I asked, staring back with glaring eyes of my own. I would not let this woman get the best of me any longer.

"Isn't it obvious? You've brought me inside your office. Your office window is where I took that photo for my scoop, the photo that became the motivation for my circumstances," Rachael replied, her smile never ceasing. It became clear now that the emotion she was feeling was not so much amusement as much as it was excitement. She was excited and thrilled about where she was at the moment and what could happen to her at this moment. "You know, for all the years I've been working as a Newspaper Reporter, this is the most thrilling part. Facing you, I had planned so many things, but I don't know what to do now."

"You're admitting weakness?" I asked, taking aback, but trying hard not to show it. It didn't seem to work.

"No. You're just cornering me is all. I am in your office, handcuffed and under your thralldom, yet I cannot decide if I should go on for the attack, stay silent or simply trust you," Rachael replied with a much softer voice than what she normally used. I found myself lowering my defenses. It seemed I truly was effected by her words, because that was all she needed.

"Why would you trust me? I am the reason you have been arrested," I asked, feeling confused, conflicted and flabbergasted at the same time.

"I'm human, just like you are," Rachael replied, shrugging. She sighed, walking toward the window. She saw the line I cut off. "Cutting your mailing line won't save you, you know. There's still evidence from the other window across."

"There's no such. The documents that were transferred from there are moved here. That building is abandoned."

"You are overlooking the skeletons in his closet, Detective Edgeworth," Rachael replied, turning her body over to me. I looked over through the window of the building where Blaise always moved important documents over. "You use this system for a reason. You knew no one would be non the wiser. It was also a place for Debeste to hide whatever dirty laundry he had. You're a very smart man."

"What are you going to do? No one will believe the Chief Detective manipulated your murder," I said, voicing threat against her.

"I never made any threat, Detective. I simply voiced the truth and you conceived it as a threat," Rachael replied with her deadpan face, the face that irritated me, while also bringing me chills. Her eyes turned toward the window." Besides, judging by how you're acting right now, it seems to me I won't need to expose you. Your guilt will do it for you."

"Guilt? What guilt?"

"You tell me," Rachael replied, still staring at the window.

"I don't feel anything and it's rude to look away from me, while we're talking," I said before Rachael looked at me once more.

"If you're going to talk to me, then don't look at me like you care about me!" Rachael spoke harshly, losing whatever voice I had in me. She seemed surprised, judging by her reaction, before composing herself. "Why have you brought me here? I want the truth. Bringing me here would only expose more of your guilt." Her eyes were once again a blade against my neck, ready to cut through me.

"Why didn't Debeste tell me he was the one setting the murders?" I finally asked. It was then that I saw a look from Rachael I never saw before. It was one of... sorrow?

"You are a puppet. Nothing more. He has everything he needs to pull the strings. All he needs is the right strings to pull and your body will move in the way he wants. He knows you will do what he wants without question or reason. As long as he devotes you of reason, you will continue to follow him. That is all."

"... I see," I muttered. So, that's it, huh? I was just his puppet? I mean, I knew that already, I knew I was his subordinate. Yet, hearing and admitting the truth to myself felt... painful. Blaise was my friend and yet... I felt hallow. I felt alone. The more I thought about it, I never really had anyone in my life. Sure, Tyrell was my subordinate and he trusted me wholeheartedly, but I was the one pulling the strings for him, not the other way around. Blaise was the only person that did anything for me, got me where I am.

I felt warm hands holding mine. I almost snatched it away as I realized who was holding it. Rachael closed her eyes. Those ice cold eyes seemed to soften the longer she held my hand. I felt my cheeks warm up just a little. She was sharp, her eyes and words cut you like the sharpest blade, but looking at the man that would ruin her life and imprison her, she was kind and gentle. I felt powerless.

"I became a reporter to free people like you trapped by lies. People use lies to imprison people. I might be imprisoned by iron bars and chains, but I cannot be held back by regret. Everything I write and say is all truth. It is for everyone to free them from corruption," Rachael admitted to me, showing a soft smile that almost made my eyes water.

"I don't deserve your pity. I imprisoned you, framed you, I distorted evidence to..." I said, my voice cracking, feeling my hand too weak to break from Rachael's hold.

"You are no less a victim of lies than I am. Your prison is more like paradise. It's worse than mine, because I know what I'm facing is misery. You are now realizing your own prison. As a reporter of the truth, it is my duty to free you from this prison and find your way. I'll do so by exposing the truth," Rachael smirked lightly as I looked directly at her, then feeling my eyes water.

"I... I'm so... sorry. You didn't murder anyone. I'll make it right, I promise, Rachael Neuslayday. You were right... about everything, even the mailing system," I apologized, my voice finally breaking as Rachael smiled warmly, then kissed my hand gently.

"I told you... not even you can ignore the truth hidden from your eyes... and you have very nice eyes," Rachael replied before gently releasing my hand. It felt warm.

"... thank you. Your eyes are sharp and cold, but also powerful and beautiful. After I reveal everything, I'd like to take you out to dinner," I offered, feeling a bit of flirtation in my voice. It was only now that I realized even I was finding Rachael attractive and attractive she was. Her words alone were enough to change me. I didn't want to lose her.

"Hm... it might be a bit difficult to date a criminal, I don't expect you to be let off for your crimes, but perhaps if they go easy on you, I might take you up on that offer... maybe," Rachael replied, showing some clever flirtation on her part.

"Ah, so you're not the plain-so-hard-to-get type rumored in the tabloids."

"Tabloids always exaggerate the truth. I could always say the same about you. I don't remember you ever being the ladies man type," Rachael teased slyly, which made me blush cherry red. "You should take me back to the Detention Center. If you face Debeste, be careful. He'll use every trick in the book to take back his control over you. If not, then he will strip you of everything you have and much more. If you intend on saving me,you must prepare to lose everything."

"I will. I promise," I said, holding Rachael in my arms.

It was such a great tragedy. I finally found love and was so close to losing her. Perhaps this was karma for how I've lived my life. I finally found someone to love only to lose it. Either way, I was willing to fight for Rachael. She was the only person in my life I knew was my real friend. She gave me the truth, while everyone else concealed it or were ignorant.

Of course, I never told anyone the events that happened in my office. Not even Tyrell knew. Even though he was on the other side of the doorway, the room was soundproof. There was no turning back from my decision. I had to face my crimes and expose Blaise Debeste's crimes. To do that, I had to be smart about it. Confronting Blaise would be the first step, with my words used carefully of course. I couldn't risk exposing my decision to save Rachael and risking everything to do so.

I had begun conjuring up a plan to confront Blaise, while returning Rachael to the Detention Center. Doing this, I knew I would lose everything: my job, my colleagues'respect, my reputation, my livelihood and much more. In doing so, I would gain someone that would change my life for the better. I would now and forever live and stand for the truth. That was my motto. This was my plan.

Just like most plans everyone makes up in their heads, they don't go how they plan. Perhaps it's my cockiness that got the better of me or being used to someone paving the road for me to succeed. Either way, I never expected the events to go the way they did. From here on out, everything that happened would no longer go how I wanted. Is this what it's like to be a puppet with your strings cut off?

I drove to Blaise Debeste's office the next day. I was confident and a bit cocky. As I said, I had everything planned in my mind. I was used to everything going according to plan. I knocked on the door.

"Come in!" I heard Blaise's voice as I entered into his office, closing the door behind me.

"Ah, Edgeworth. Good to see you. I already prepared the documents for the trial," Blaise smirked proudly.

"Good. I still haven't found an alternate mailing route and going into my office isn't going to always work."

"No worries. After what you've given me, I'll be sure to make sure she's given the death sentence."

"Death sentence?" I asked, feeling that same sickness from before, only much worse. It didn't help that I was now in love with this woman. "I thought she'd only get a life sentence."

"She did murder 10 people and it was all premeditated," Blaise explained, making me even sicker. He... he's going to kill her?

"Is that really necessary? She's just a reporter. If you put her behind bars, she'll be powerless. An involuntary manslaughter should be enough for a life sentence," I suggested in a persuasive manner.

"Don't be naive, Greg. I told you, the most dangerous people are those that can use their words and influence the masses. Her words alone will be enough, even in prison, to turn the whole state against us," Blaise replied with intimidation in his voice. It was now that I realized how easily swayed I was by his words just like Rachael's, but Blaise's were full of lies.

"... perhaps."

"You doubt me?" Blaise asked, again showing a voice filled with threat.

"... a little. I have been wondering who actually killed those people. You know I would follow you regardless who the true killer is," I said, seeing a smirk behind Blaise's lips.

"I realize that. Though, you knowing would lessen my chances of getting Ms. Neuslayday guilty."

"Then, why do you never tell me the identity of the real killer after every trial I help you with? We're partners. I deserve to know and as I said before, I will follow you regardless who the killer is," I pointed out, using my own words back at him. I had to know.

"Heh, I knew this would happen. That Neuslayday woman has gotten to you, hasn't she?" Blaise asked, smirking dangerously.

"What are you talking about? This has nothing to do with-"

"Oh, but it does. Her words hold a strong amount of influence to the masses. In fact, so much that there's been protests outside the prison every morning until closing," Blaise explained. Of course, I was aware, but it felt very typical to me. Rachael Neuslayday was a very famous reporter after all. "From the moment you interrogated her, I had my suspicion that her words would effect you. I just hope it doesn't cause you to ruin everything."

"Don't be absurd. We're in this together and even if she has told me things, I will still stick with you like I always have. I just want you to be upfront with me," I said demandingly. I had already chosen to protect Rachael, but I had to test Blaise's loyalty. He stayed silent, giving me a terrifying glare I faced, ready to challenge. "Was it you?"

"... that is non of your concern. Remember your place, Detective. You would not be there if not for me."

"I could say the same to you. I helped you get where you are. We are in this together," I repeated.

"Correct, and thus we must trust each other. Don't be swayed by the words of that woman. She's using her own words to pin you against me."

"I'm not!"

"But, you are! You just haven't realized it! I'm your friend, Greg. I'm doing all of this for your sake," Blaise said, his words full of lies I knew he was using to twist me under his thumb. He had everything against me. "Go back to your job and do what you always do. Let me take care of this and it will all go according to plan."

It hurt. It hurt knowing the man I looked to as my partner, my friend was nothing more than a manipulator. Rachael was right. I was nothing more than a puppet. Admitting it to myself in my office was painful enough, but seeing it right in front of me, feeling it, it felt as if he was mentally suffocating me. I was scared.

"I mean it, Greg. Don't do anything you will regret. Got it?" Blaise asked, showing a deep glare, eyes filled with hellfire.

"... I'll be returning to my job," I replied, leaving the office with the door shut behind me.

I quickly walked to the elevator as fast as I could, making sure he didn't follow me. I didn't want to show the painful emotions I was feeling of pain and betrayal. I thought Blaise was my friend, but he wasn't. He never was my friend and I was a fool. I felt like the helpless child, who stayed by his father in hopes of finding love where he could never find it. I realized now that I would never find love in my life.

Almost stumbling into my car, I felt tears bursting from my eyes, while gripping on the steering wheel. This was all too much. My father never loved me, my mother never loved me, my sister couldn't care less if I lived or died and come to find out Blaise never cared about me either. I was a sucker. I was nothing to Blaise or anyone. It's even possible my own disciple didn't care about me either.

I deserved this. I didn't care about anything else, but my job and success. I was so obsessed with proving my father, mother and sister wrong that I became just as loveless as they were. So many people died or were imprisoned by my own hands. Now, the only person in my life that loved me would meet the same fate. Something inside me snapped and I couldn't handle it.

I found myself at the Detention Center, having entered through the back entrance through a key card that came with being a Chief Detective. I needed someone to talk to, to cry to. I had no one else, but one person. I only had the one person that was the most kind and truthful to me. I vented and wept to that person.

"I... thought he was my friend. I thought we were partners. I-I thought..." I finally ended, after having explained everything that happened.

Rachael was standing on the other side of those bars. Her eyes that were once sharp as a samurai blade were now filled with sorrow. I kept crying, not knowing what else to do. Her hands cupped my face, wiping my tears from my eyes. There were no words.

"I... shouldn't be doing this, but... mind if I come in?" I asked with a rough voice. Again, another advantage with being the Chief Detective.

"Of course, Detective," Rachael replied softly as I grabbed the keys, then unlocked the cell door before closing it behind me.

"Call me Greg," I whispered softly.

Perhaps it was desperation to find love somewhere. I can't be certain. Either way, Rachael was the only safe haven I had at the moment. She allowed me to lay my head on her lap, while I wept more tears. I still remember her fingers gently brushing through my hair. It felt nice. I never had anyone do that before.

I didn't deserve this happiness, this feeling of joy and comfort. The woman that gave me this would die soon by my own hands. That only made me cry even more as I felt more fingers on my hair and face. I felt helpless, weak, tired and scared. Gently, I kissed that hand, which made Rachael smile. From there, we enjoyed each other's company.

Not many words were said. After I finished crying and being comforted, Rachael got out a chessboard brought to her in the Detention Center by her mother. We played chess together and, of course, she won every time. Through chess, she explained to me about a technique she uses in reporting called Logic Chess. We played a few games and, with each loss, I enjoyed the game all the more. She talked about her family. She has a younger sister, a living mother, two aunts and a cousin. In return, I told her about my own family, even as sad as it was.

So much time had passed between us and it turned to nighttime. I made sure to call Tyrell to tell him to clock me out at work. I found myself wanting to stay with Rachael longer. She didn't mind and allowed me to stay, if only to give me comfort. I began realizing that even the most unexpected things can have its own rewards.

"Thank you for allowing me this time with you, Rachael," I thanked, holding her close with one arm. "After everything I've done, I don't deserve someone like you and you certainly deserve better than me."

"You're the most interesting, Greg. I wouldn't ask for anything else. You're a great friend... perhaps a greater more," Rachael smirked slightly, nuzzling her nose in my neck. That made me chuckle a little. It was cute.

"... I'll do everything in my power to save you. As of now, I'm not sure what else to do. If I lose my job, I lose you."

"Hm... a hopeless situation. Debeste knows you're turning against him. You'll need something, a weapon that will make it impossible for him to have anything against you, even if you lose your job."

"That's the problem... aside from you, I've got nothing. All the evidence I forged is placed against you... No matter what I do, you're execution is inevitable."

"Sounds like it. What will you do?"

"..."

"You got me into this mess. How will you get me out?"

"I can't... I can make your execution pause for... maybe a year."

"Hm?"

"Rachael, I will find a way to makeup everything to you. If I can't save you, then at the very least, I'll extend your time to gather evidence of Debeste's and I's crime. I doubt this will work, but... I have a plan."

"Then, give it to me, Greg,"Rachael replied with her smug smirk.

From there, we set our plan into motion. I was desperate, but I no longer cared. Blaise may've had Rachael's neck around a noose, but there was someone he couldn't touch. It was for this reason that I paid visits to the Detention Center nightly as much as I could. Of course, I knew this would get me fired for sure, but if this didn't work, then nothing ever would. Even Rachael knew it.

Rachael was given a strong Defense Attorney to keep the trial going for a couple of months. Of course, with the forged evidence I created, I knew it was inevitable. Even the attorney was convinced that she was guilty. I knew she wasn't. Even if I was to admit to the court of forgery, Blaise would only turn the tables and use whatever he had at his disposal to prove the defendant guilty. I would be fired, no doubt, but because I'd be fired, I could not use any of my powers as the Chief Detective to save Rachael. Unless there was new evidence, Rachael and I were at a rock and a hard place.

Because of that forged evidence, I watched from the gallery as Rachael was declared guilty. I knew it was inevitable.

"Court is adjourned!" The judge said, but before he could pound his gavel.

"OBJECTION!" A voice was heard from the doors leading to the courtroom.

"I already declared the defendant guilty!"

"It's not that. It's something... much more serious," the voice that came from Tyrell said, shooting a glare at Rachael, who showed a small smirk.

"Serious?"

"The defendant... believes she is pregnant. From the Chief's orders, we performed tests and... it came out positive."

"Wh-What!?" The judge exclaimed.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?! SHE'S BEEN IN THE DETENTION CENTER FOR ALMOST A MONTH!!" Blaise yelled at the top of his lungs. His response was laughable to say the least.

There were murmurs in the gallery from where I was at. It was chaos. It was shameful that I had to go to such tactics. Though, this was the only attempt I could think of. Now, Blaise has someone he has to go through before getting to Rachael. More than that, even if I was fired, I now had a reason or a case to keep Rachael alive for a little bit longer. Nine months was better than nothing. It gave us time to gather whatever evidence we could collect to use against Blaise when the time was right. I would go down, but I would take Blaise with me.

I did say that everything I did at this point would not be part of my plan. It wasn't part of my plan to leave Blaise's office feeling defeated, run to the Detention Center and in attempt to keep Rachael alive to create a child inside her that would be our son. I felt excitement. I would not be like my father, who chose his drugs over me. I would give my son everything I never had. I would no longer only love and care for myself.

Entering into Blaise's office once more, Blaise looked up at me with eyes filled with fire and hate. He said, "I've received reports of your Detective ID card showing up at the Detention Center every night." From that one sentence, I knew that Blaise was no longer being subtle with me any longer. I was glad, because I no longer wanted to be subtle either. No more hiding. From now on, I will live for the truth and it will be out in the open, no subtlety required.

"Good. Then, you will be glad to hear I'm no longer your puppet anymore," I said, slamming my Detective's badge on his desk. Actually, I didn't need to do that, since I already filed in a report about my leave, but I wanted to stick it to the prosecutor I had worked with and defended up until now.

"What's this? Is this some kind of joke!?"

"I never joke, Debeste. More or less I had an affair with the Defendant. That was enough for me to lose my job anyways, even if I weren't to quit. I'm sure Criminals Affairs will have a hay day about this matter."

"You're a bigger fool than I thought. Is this some type of attempt to buy time?"

"..."

"Giving me the silent treatment like your inmate girlfriend," Blaise smirked with venom in his speech.

"... we'll meet again. If you excuse me, I have a case to file regarding custody rights to my child."

"You're going to pay for this, Edgeworth! I'll make sure your child goes down with you!"Blaise promised, knowing that mentioning him would rile me up.

"Debeste..." I said as Blaise frowned. I turned my head, showing unforgiving eyes. "Try me. You touch my child and there'll be hell to pay."

I turned and left out the door. Somehow, I knew Blaise would try to get my child. It was for that reason why saving him became my first priority over Rachael. Even when trying to save her, at the same time I couldn't. She was already declared guilty and the only thing I could do was bring our child, our son, into the world.

During those nine months, I first hired an attorney to pause Rachael's death sentence and win my son's custody. At the same time, I was also trying to gather evidence with Tyrell's help about the forgery that was involved with Rachael's trial and how Blaise and I were in cahoots to make sure she was framed with falsified evidence. Unfortunately, Blaise made things hard during the trial to pause Rachael's death sentence, presenting more false evidence to prove she wasn't pregnant.

The attorney I hired for this trial was different from the one that defended Rachael during her trial of ten murders. I will never forget him, Ronald Drew. I assisted him in pausing Rachael's sentence and he taught me everything I know in being a defense attorney. Unfortunately, due to the fight Blaise was willing to draw out, I could only save our son.

I was able to gather the evidence I needed, but not until after Rachael's sentence. Our son had to be first priority. I remember coming into the hospital room and the small baby that was placed into my arms had beautiful snow hair like his mother. Looking at Rachael, she smiled tiredly at my direction.

"Take care of our son," Rachael said.

"Of course I will. Listen, if given more time, I can-" I said helplessly before seeing that icy glare once more that seemed so tired.

"Greg, I want you to listen to me very carefully."

"...."

"I love you. You've given me more excitement than I can ever imagine. No matter what you have done, I will never stop loving you."

Rach-"

"I'm not done, Greg," Rachael cut me off, showing her signature smirk. I listened, if only sorrowfully. "So, don't feel bad when I'm gone, okay. Take care of our son and love him. I'm sure he will be like his father in many ways than one, so make sure to teach him to not be a puppet. Teach him to make his own choices without anyone's money, power or genius level of smarts."

"Of course I will and Rachael, I love you too. I... I want to spend my life with you, get married, raise our child together. I don't want to lose you. I... I don't know what I'm going to do, if I fail to save you. You were the first person to ever show me real love."

"Greg, hehe you won't lose me, because even in death, my words will always live through you and our son. Actually, there is one thing, we need to give our boy a name."

"Oh, I-I forgot with the trials and..."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"Not really. I suppose we could name him after me. Gregory Junior."

"Hahaha no. I want our son to choose his own path, not be like his daddy," Rachael said, then hummed. "I like the name Michael."

"Now, who is naming their son after themselves?" I teased as Rachael placed her finger on my lips.

"Rhyming names don't count. But, if you're really that picky, how about Miles?

"Miles it is. Actually, it has a nice ring to it, Miles Edgeworth," I said joyfully, looking down at the young infant in my arms, who opened his eyes. "He has your eyes." I found myself crying in joy and sorrow. Sorrow because I would lose Rachael, but joy because those eyes and that beautiful face would never leave me.

The execution arrived only just a few days later. I watched it from behind the glass wall, holding our son in my arms. I can't say how long I was in deep sorrow after Rachael's death. All I knew was that the only person that kept me strong every day was the small baby that shared her eyes, hair and face. As Miles grew, I began seeing more of his mother that he never got to meet. Even now, having shown more personality, I'm certain that his mother's spirit is somehow inside him. Even the way he glares reminds me of his mother.

I never told Miles about his mother. I only told him what she was like and that she had passed away, but no more. I had feared by telling Miles, he would come to hate me for taking away his mother. Even now, I consider Rachael Neuslayday to be my greatest failure. She was a courageous woman, who lived in the truth and by living this way, she would be convinced and tried under false charges created by my own hands. I still have evidence of all I did.

I had planned on telling Miles when he turned 15. That would be the end of the stature of limitation. I would turn myself in and confess to the crimes Blaise Debeste and I made against Rachael Neuslayday. Though, I also suspected he was aware of what I had planned to do. I heard he got himself a new puppet to play with since I left, or should I say puppets. It would not surprise me, if Blaise used those puppets to take my life before placing my son under his thumb.

It is for this reason why I state in my Will to send this journal to my son. Miles, if you're reading this, this is the truth about your mother and why I became a Defense Attorney. I know you always talk about wanting to become like me, but I don't want you to be like me. I want you to live for the truth without regrets. If you do have regrets and are bound by the chains of lies like I once was, only finding the truth will free you, even if it's painful. Free yourself and you will then begin your own journey to find yourself.

With that said, I know that knowing you, you will beg and plead to me to tell you what I want you to do for me. If you insist on doing something for me, then there are only two things I want you to do. First, I want you to turn in all the evidence I have preserved under the floorboard of my desk of my law offices. Expose them to the media and let the world know the truth about what happened on that trial, so that it never happens again. Second, I want you to follow your own path. I know you say you want to become a Defense Attorney like me, but if there is another career you'd rather take for yourself, then take it. I want you to be happy and do the things you enjoy.

I don't want you to believe for a single second that you have to please me. I don't want you to be like me, but to be better than me. No matter what path you choose, my spirit will always be with you, even if you may not notice it. I know your mother's spirit lives in you, because I see it every time I see you. You've given me the greatest gift I could ever ask for, love. Thus, I don't need anything more.

********

The young Miles Edgeworth, age 20, finished reading the last page of his father's journal. He closed the journal before walking over to his father's law offices. Raymond had closed and locked the office. Feeling around the floorboard, he searched around his father's desk before finding a trap door that seemed to have been handmade. He gently removed it, then reached down to pull up two boxes, both containing preserved evidence and laminated files. He read through each of them with furrowed eyebrows.

A cocky smirk appeared upon the lips of the greenhorn prosecuting attorney, who was wearing the uniform his mentor made for him. It slowly turned into a grin. He responded, "thank you, father. It seems like you kept this from Shields as well."

Looking around, he slowly closed the trap door before sneaking out the offices through the front door. It seemed that Raymond Shields never bothered changing the password to the security alarm. Miles placed the boxes in the front seat to his right before driving off. It was still three hours before opening. Getting out his phone, he called Detective Gumshoe.

"Hello Mr. Edgeworth, sir. What cha calling so early for?"  Detective Gumshoe asked.

"I have a job for you, Detective. I have some documents and stuff in the back of my car I'd like you to send to Timely News, tell them you have a great scoop for them from an anonymous source. Say it is about their former employee named Rachael Neuslayday," Edgeworth ordered.

"You got it, sir! But sir, who's Rachael Neuslayday?"

"Let's just say... she's a very special lady."

"Ah, I see! I'll be sure to tell them, sir! Wow, you're sure are lucky with the ladies!"

"She died when I was only a few days old."

"... oh."

"Just do as your told Detective."

"Right! On it, sir!"

Edgeworth hung up, then parked his car in the garage of the prosecutor's building. While waiting for the detective to arrive, he looked back at his father's journal before turning the front cover, showing a picture of a young woman with silver eyes, silvery-white hair that was pulled back and a velvet red suit and skirt. Smiling at the picture, he closed the journal, then tucked it in the back pocket of his suit.

"Thank you, Father."

The next day, Timely News front cover exposed the story of Rachael Neuslayday and her story. Unfortunately, Edgeworth Law Offices would begin having a rocky reputation and it would be after this that Edgeworth would be called a traitor by Raymond Shields until six years later.

A/N: Let me tell ya, it was difficult to decide how to end this. I wasn't sure to have Miles read it to Raymond, read it to Kay, having it be his first time reading it after his father died or something. I decided to go with this route. It felt right. I think if Miles was inherited his father's journal after his father's death, I think he would've wanted to follow his father's wishes to a T whether or not he was under Von Karma. Now, Raymond Shields might take that as an act of betrayal, but Edgeworth at this point is too prideful to explain himself and would refuse to until Miles Edgeworth Investigations: Prosecutor's Path between the second and third investigation. As for how Raymond knew Edgeworth was the one that sent the documents to the News, he knew Edgeworth broke in for one. Second, even though Raymond didn't know the location of the files and evidence of what happened, it doesn't mean he didn't know anything about it. Gregory wouldn't have kept it from Raymond, since he was expected to take over Edgeworth Law Offices after Gregory turned himself in. As for why Raymond would call Miles's actions an act of betrayal for turning in the documents to the media is because he was unaware this was a request from Gregory Edgeworth himself. Also, Raymond would not have done this if he was requested to do it, thus why Gregory assigned his son to do this. Raymond doesn't understand that because Miles turned in the documents, he's protecting Edgeworth Law Offices from having a blackmail from Blaise Debeste over its head. 

As for the idea behind this, it was an idea I thought about for a while. I did mention a couple of times in my one shots that Gregory Edgeworth might've been a former Chief Detective or Detective. I also hinted that he didn't stand for the truth like he did as a Defense Attorney. I decided to write a one shot about his story as a Chief Detective and what made him decide to become a Defense Attorney. I think there's an Ace Attorney musical with a similar concept where Gregory Edgeworth falsified evidence in order to get his clients a Not Guilty verdict. Honestly, I don't think that idea would be too far fetch. Detective Badd did seem to not trust Gregory at first and even claimed that defense attorneys falsify evidence, which doesn't make sense he'd say that, given Calisto Yew being involved with him a few years later, unless Gregory was involved in that once upon a time. Also, Raymond Shields did jokingly argue that prosecutors becoming defense attorneys is something common before telling Edgeworth that he was serious. Could that be him hinting that Gregory Edgeworth might've worked in another profession at one point, especially since the trench coat he wears looks awfully familiar to the tan coat Gumshoe wore as a new detective before it turned green? Considering that Gregory and Miles Edgeworth use the same kind of game play to investigate, not including Logic Chess, I feel it makes too much sense for Gregory Edgeworth to have been a detective at one point. When he became a defense attorney, he taught his son how to investigate a crime scene as his assistant (Raymond Shields only worked part time, meaning that he probably only worked with Gregory while Miles was at school or with his friends).