A/N: Hey guys! So this is a long ass chapter, I am aware of this, but I couldn't make it shorter. It's a little boring if you ask me, but I still hope you'll like it! The end of this book is near, and I'm sooo not ready :(
Don't forget to comment your thoughts, it would help me for the rest of the story to know what you guys think about this.

Much love <3

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Michael's point of view

I looked down at my watch, and noticed it was already six in the morning. A wave of nervousness washed over me just thinking June was about to wake up and get prepared to go to court without me. I felt guilty not to be there and support her through this, but some things needed to be done.

I looked at Bill who was sitting in the driver's seat of the car next to me, and he nodded slightly.

"I know, you're scared," he sighed. "You need to do this, son," he gently said, patting my shoulder gently. "She won't be mad at you for trying to get the both of you the best life there is."

"I'm doing something behind her back. I promised...," I started, sighing heavily. "I promised her I wouldn't do anything without her consent. She kept her promise. Me? I'm just about to ruin it in a heartbeat."

"Listen to me," Bill said, and turned fully to look at me right in the eyes. "You're not ruining anything, alright? You're trying to get your life back.  There's nothing to be ashamed or afraid about. June will understand. She's a smart girl, she won't get mad at you. I promise you this."

"I need to do this," I nodded, and unbuckled my seat belt. "We need him."

"You do," my bodyguard nodded. "Now go in there. I'll be waiting here."

I exhaled loudly a couple of times and got out of the car, careful to look around me for any sign of paparazzi. Luckily, there wasn't any of them as Bill parked the car behind the huge arena where nobody was there yet at such an early time.

I adjusted my cap on my head and my shades on my nose, and walked to the back doors where two bodyguards were.

Of course there would be bodyguards.

I rode the stairs nervously, looking at me feet only. Once I reached the two tall men, I looked up at them, and repeated a million times in my head to be firm with them.

"Sir, where do you think you're going?" the tall black man asked me, putting himself in front of me.

"I need to come in," I said, removing my shades and cap. "It's very important."

"Uh, we didn't know you were invited here, Mr. Jackson," the other one said, confused by my being here. "Does the boss know you're here?"

"No, he doesn't. Please, don't tell him. It's a... surprise."

"A surprise? Well, yeah, he's going to be surprised, but I don't think he's going to be thrilled by your surprise, sir. I can't let you in."

"I would have recognized you among thousands," Bill's voice said from behind me, and I turned my head to look at him. "Hi Fred."

"Bill. What's goin' on, man?"

"You need to let this man in. He's trying to make things right, okay? Please, let him in."

"I—I can't. I can't risk my job, and neither can Tom," he declared, referring to his colleague who was by his side. "I'm sorry."

"Look, Fred, right? If I don't come in, there would be consequences that your boss wouldn't like. I need to talk to him," I begged, looking at the two bodyguards.

"Fred. It's about Ms. Wellington. He'd like to know," my head of security pressed. "Let Mr. Jackson in."

The guy now known as Fred looked at his friend who shrugged, indicating him that he didn't know what decision to make as well. The tall black man sighed heavily, looking down for a few seconds before making eye contact with me again.

"Go," he simply said, opening the heavy double door. Walking past him to go inside the arena, I patted his shoulder as a thank you. Bill followed close behind me, as he thought it would be safer if he tagged along.

Inside, the two of us followed the voices that echoed through the arena, trying to avoid as much people as we could.

When I heard the sound of an electric guitar, I followed the melody and arrived at the top of the bleachers. I looked around me, and noticed the room was practically empty. Only the musicians and a couple of staff members were there.

I thought Prince was playing a random melody, but I then recognized  it as the guitar solo from his song Computer Blue. I decided to sit down for a few moments, far away from the stage, to watch him do his thing.

The stage was bright and large. The musicians and their instruments were already in place and waited for Prince to finish his guitar solo. They were all mesmerized; the same way I was.

Prince and I surely had one common point: we're both perfectionists.

He always gave everything he had in his music: his soul, his heart, his passion. He had the ability to tell a story just by playing the guitar. Like every note has its own particular meaning and if you put them all together, they would tell you a story.

This is what made him a genius.

When he was done with his guitar, the few people that witnessed his display of talent cheered loudly, as I stood there applauding him as well.

"Come on guys, I was just warming up," he chuckled slightly. "God bless you all, thank you."

"You blew our fuckin' minds away, man! That's not warming up, it's bragging!" one of the member of the band said, causing Prince to chuckle some more.

"I don't need to brag," he answered with a smirk. "Hey Rosie? I'd like to go with Nothing Compares 2 U now. Last time you were a bit off key, can we do it again?" Prince spoke in the microphone, exchanging his electric guitar for his purple piano.

"Sure. I'm ready," Rosie, I guessed, answered.

Prince nodded and played a few random notes on the piano as well, certainly to check if it was tuned, before starting to play the melody of the song.

"It's been seven hours, and thirteen days since you took your love away," he sang perfectly, and his voice echoed through the whole arena. "I go out every night, and sleep all day, since you took your love away."

"Since you've been gone I can do whatever I want, I can see whoever I choose," the middle-aged black woman sang perfectly. "I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant. But nothing, nothing can take away these blues."

"Nothing compares, nothing compares to you," they harmoniously sang together.

"It's been so lonely without you here. I'm like a bird, without a song. Nothing can stop this lonely rain from falling. Tell me baby, where did Prince go wrong?"

They kept on singing, and I kept on watching them until the end of the song. Prince has this passion when he sings, the same I have when I sing, this ability to make you feel every word he is saying like he's actually saying them to you.

I really admired him for his talent.

When he was done with that song, I slowly walked down the stairs to the stage, and took my shades off so that Prince could recognize me easily.

"Cat?" Prince called in the microphone, but nobody answered. "Caaaaaaaaaaat?" he called again, but still no answers from the person in question. "Meooooow?" he imitated cats noises, which made me laugh and caught Prince's attention. "M—Michael?"

"Now I preferred when you made cat noises. Michael who? You high or something?" Prince's dancer arrived next to him as he was looking at me. "What you look—ooh shit. Hi!"

"Hello," I politely said. "I'm, can I talk to you for a sec?" I asked Prince, as he looked at me with the same look on his face. He was surprised, I could tell.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he accepted, standing up from behind the piano. "Guys, rehearse 1999 without me for now, okay? I'll be back shortly," he instructed before putting the microphone down. "Follow me," he told me, and I did as told.

We arrived backstage, where people were looking at us weirdly. I laughed a bit internally at them because the look on their face was just priceless, which eased me a little.

Once we arrived in Prince's dressing room, he invited me to sit on the couch, while he sat on a chair just across from me. He looked down for a minute, silence filling the room, and then looked at me again.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sent this letter, I know. I'm just trying to move—"

"This isn't the reason why I'm here, Prince," I cut him off, as he started to get nervous.

"But did she—did she read it? Did you?"

"We both read it, yeah. You're moving on, that's a good thing."

"Yeah, I have to," he snorted, rubbing his palms together. "I needed to tell her all of that to move on. I'm sorry if it was inappropriate or awkward but I felt like I had to do this."

"It's alright," I reassured. "I think it's best for the both of you. It's going to be hard, but you're going to make it."

"Yeah," he faintly smiled. "I just—" he started speaking, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in!"

The person opened the door, and quickly I recognized the woman who entered the room, "Michael?"

"Tara? H--Hi!"

"Hey, what are you doing here? Is there a problem with June?" she asked right away, closing the door behind her.

"No—well, not really," I explained, and exhaled loudly. "What are you doing here? I thought—"

"We're friends," Prince explained, looking at Tara. "Well, I'm her producer, but we're still friends."

"Producer? You're making an album?" I enthusiastically asked, turning in her direction.

"Yes, sir," she shyly smiled, looking down. "And P. said I needed a stage name, so it's Carmen Electra now," she explained, and I nodded my head.

"This is amazing. Congrats!"

"Thanks," she shyly thanked me, and a silence fell upon the three of us. "Michael, what's wrong with June? She is my friend, and I didn't even know everything that happened to her until Prince told me about it."

"There isn't a problem with her, but someone is causing her problems. That someone we both know," I said, looking at Prince with a dead serious face.

"Frank," he automatically understood. "What's the problem with that asshole again?"

"As we speak, June is probably about to wake up to go to court. Today, she is finally going to face the four people who ruined her life. Thing is, I have a bad feeling concerning Frank's trial," I explained, and I visibly caught Tara and Prince's attention as they listened carefully to me. "We don't have much proof."

"How can I be helpful?"

"I need you to come to court and testify against Frank, and tell the judge what he asked you to do," I quickly said, getting nervous. "I didn't want to involve you, but I'm scared. We can't win with the little proof we have. You're our last chance."

"I can't come, Michael. I have a concert tonight, and I have an interview on the afternoon. I—I can't, I'm sorry," he said, confused. He was slightly panicking, I could hear it I'm his speech.

"Prince, look," I said, trying to keep my calm. "She needs you. We need you, okay? She's been through hell, and if this asshole doesn't stay behind bars, I doubt she'll ever be herself again. Please, postpone your concert."

"What if it doesn't work? I would have done this for nothing?"

"I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't this desperate. We can't do this without you," I declared in a shaky voice. "And if for some reasons it does not work, then you would have be there for June during a tough time."

"That's the problem, Mike! I don't want to be there for her. I can't be her friend anymore, I can't be in her life anymore. I can't, I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head from right to left.

"Please tell me it's a joke," I practically begged him, watching his demeanor closely. "Tell me you're not going to let the woman you pretend to care about, to love even, in such a crappy situation?

"I'm moving on," he simply said before standing up. "I need to go now. I'm sorry," he announced, not even looking at me, walking past Tara like she wasn't even there.

"You need to stop making people hate you to move on, Prince!" I called from behind him as I followed him outside the room. "You need to stop doing that if you don't want to end up all alone with only your fake bad boy ways to comfort you!"

He stopped dead in his tracks but never turned around to look at me again, "I don't need anybody," he coldly said before walking away.

I stayed there completely dumbfounded and helpless as I watched him walk away. He made up his mind: he wasn't going to help us out, and that seemed final.

"What is wrong with him?" Tara asked as she was standing next to me.

"Everything is wrong with him," I declared, looking at her briefly. "It was nice seeing you again."

"Wait, Michael! Where are you going?"

"Home. I have nothing to do here anymore," as I started to walk away, Tara called my name another time.

"I can help you!"

"How?" I asked, turning around to look at her. "You heard him, there's nothing he wants to do to help us."

"I'll talk to him. It's not like him to do that."

"And you think he'll listen?  You saw just like me that he didn't want to have anything to do with that."

"He's going to listen. He has to."

June's point of view

I nervously adjusted my black suit as I was waiting with Trent outside the courtroom. I sat down on the wooden bench, and started to tap my foot nervously on the floor. The wait was just unbearable as I knew the jury was deliberating on Paulina's sentence.

Being who we were, the judge accepted to have the four trials under short notice, so that the press doesn't speculate too much about this entire matter, which was a plus. Usually, it takes weeks, or even months for a trial to take place.

But there was a change of schedule concerning the trials proceedings.

Normally, the four trials should had taken place the day after my family left Neverland, but they were postponed to the following week because Trent didn't feel ready just yet. He had four different people to face in one day, so I understood he needed more time.

Stephanie's was the first trial from a long day in court, and Michael couldn't be present, as he left for Las Vegas the night prior. He apparently had an important meeting, but he didn't tell me much about it as he certainly didn't want to bother me with his work, but also so that I could stay focused on what was coming.

Stephanie's appointed lawyer did a good job trying to portray her like a little, innocent thing. She looked through her past to excuse the fact that she tried to kill Pit an I, and I was scared it would actually work.

The lawyer explained the judge how hard it was to live like a regular person when you come from a disastrous background: alcoholic mother, abusive father, lack of education... Everything seemed right to make her look like she was innocent.

However, Trent always knew how to face her. He always had valuable arguments to show everybody how much of a psychopath she was. He did his job very well, and found every little small piece of information about her that would do the difference.

Caleb, who came along with Becks and I, agreed on being our witness and talk to the judge about his past with Stephanie. He told the jurors what she put him through: the pills, the scars, the rape... The scars and the medical prescription the doctor gave him a few days before were good enough proofs that the girl needed serious mental help, and needed to be locked away.

Apparently, all of this worked, and there was my very first victory: the jury decided she was guilty.

Trent assured me that Stephanie would go to a woman's prison back in her native Mississippi, where she'd do at least a five years sentence for attempted murder.

We now knew she was guilty, but her definitive sentence would be officially known later, during another trial where my being here wouldn't be needed.

When the trial ended and that they took Stephanie out of court, Caleb cried out of relief in my arms. He knew this was over, and that Stephanie wouldn't be a problem in his life anymore.

He was finally safe, and he was finally able to take his life back.

Corruption, drug traffic, dereliction of duty and being an accomplice in a criminal investigation were the charges that were against Milo. The different proofs we showed were enough for the jury to declare him guilty as well. Becks' testimony about how corrupted he was, the pictures Harrison took of him with Paulina and Stephanie, the bruises Caleb earned from him... All of these proofs were way enough to throw him behind bars as well.

And this was my second victory of the day.

Now, the hardest was yet to come: Paulina, and then, Frank.

"Any news from Becks?" I nervously asked Trent who sat next to me. "She should be here by now. They both should be here. I can't go back in there without--"

"June, calm down. They'll be there soon," he reassured, patting my shoulder. "Stay focused."

"I'm frightened," I said in a low voice, still tapping my foot on the floor. "what if she paid the judge? She has the means to. She could get out of this easily. She could--they could think she's innocent."

"Do you trust me?" he asked, looking deep into my eyes.

"Y-Yeah," I voiced.

"Then relax, she's going to pay for what she's done to you. I promise you this."

I simply nodded, sighing heavily. I leaned back on my seat, and looked down at my watch.

Twenty-three minutes.

Time was passing by, and the more time the jurors spent deliberating, the more nervous I got. Nothing could ease me as Michael wasn't there. I missed a hand to hold. I missed someone to support me.

"June, seriously," Trent said, turning to me. "Stop. It's going to be just fine."

I didn't answer and just decided to trust him as he seemed confident about it. I took yet another look down at my watch, and seeing that Michael and Becks weren't there yet, my anxiety reached its top. I stood up from the wooden bench, and paced the floor nervously.

"Maybe she didn't find him. I mean, L.A's airport is huge, and he's probably wearing a disguise. Maybe they misunderstood each other and—"

Before I could go any further in my assumptions, I heard heels from outside the room, but what I surely recognized was Michael's voice. When I got out of there, there they were. Michael was tying his tie around his neck, and Becks was walking quickly in front of him. I didn't waste any minute, and ran towards my fiancé with my heels on. When he looked up from his tie and saw me running towards him, a smile spread across his face as he opened his arms for me. I jumped in, ignoring my aching arm, and put my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his comforting scent.

"Thank God you're here," I whispered, holding him tightly as his arms were securely wrapped around my waist.

"I am. I'm sorry I took so long. I thought it would be quicker," he explained, and put me down. "How are you?"

"Nervous, but I feel better now that you're here," I admitted, and gave him a little kiss. "Thank you for coming."

"Don't mention it, I'd always come for you," he smiled, and rubbed my cheek gently. "Becks told me about Milo and Stephanie. It's great."

"Yeah, only two to go," I sighed, playing with his tie. "Trent did a great job."

"Apparently. Let's hope he did what was necessary to throw Paulina behind bars as well."

"He said everything that needed to be said, but Paulina's attorney is quite a pain in the ass. He tried anything to make me look like the bad person," I explained to Michael as we were walking towards the room, holding each other's hand tightly. "He analyzed everything that was said about me in the press, he made researches about me... He tried everything for Paulina not to be found guilty by making me look guilty."

"But they did find drugs at her place, right?"

"Of course they did. Plus, with the pics Harrison took, there's no way the judge and the jurors don't think she's not guilty. If they are smart, they'll see the truth when just in front of them."

"It's gonna be fine, babe," Michael reassured, and stopped walking once we arrived in the office.

He took my hand in his, and looked deep into my eyes. I looked into his chocolate irises, and almost drowned in their beauty. The simple sight of his beautiful doe eyes made me feel better, and safer. A smile appeared on my face as Michael kept looking at me lovingly.

"We're going to win this, and we're going to be happy," he assured me, before taking me in his arms and laying a kiss on top of my head. "This is ending today."

I wrapped my uninjured arm tightly around his waist and squeezed the life out of him. This was the only thing that was able to calm my nerves and comfort me.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, guys, but... June, someone would like to talk to you," Becks announced.

"Who's that?" I asked, removing my head from Michael's chest.

"Your boss. Do I allow her to come or not?"

I sighed heavily, "Emily. Of course she wants to see me. She was there during the entire trial," I said, shaking my head. "You can tell her to come in."

"Baby, are you sure? I mean, right now is probably not the right time."

"I've been ignoring her calls for days. She has the right to know what's going on between her two employees," I simply said before pecking Michael's lips. "It needs to be done."

As on cue, Emily came in the room, scanning it to find me. Once her eyes landed on me, she came almost jogging towards me, and she gave me an unexpected hug.

"Dear Lord in heaven, are you okay?" she asked, rubbing my back. "I had no idea—I didn't even know what was going on between the two of you! Why didn't you tell me? I could have fired her!"

"I wanted to fix this myself, without involving people," I explained, pulling away from her. "And I didn't know she was up to something as big as this. It happened really fast."

"She's totally sick. And what you said—what your lawyer said about her drugging Sheila during the newbies' first party... I had no idea. I'm sorry I yelled at you that night."

"You couldn't know, it's okay," I said, tapping her shoulder gently. "Hopefully, things will get better after this."

"They will. You won't have to worry about her anymore for work. I'm firing her ass."

"W—Who's going to replace her and take care of her models?"

"No one."

"What? Are they fired as well? Does this mean—," I started, but my boss cut me off.

"I'm pretty sure they're all as twisted as this woman is. I don't want to take the risk to keep them and that they screw everything up."

"Emily, those kids aren't all bad, they didn't choose to have a shitty manager. Let me—let me take care of them. I won't keep the five of them, but at least let me take care of the ones who are worth this job. Please," I practically begged, not wanting the kids to pay for Paulina's bitchy ways.

"Alright," she nodded. "We need to talk about this, so come to see me whenever you have time for yourself. We need to talk about the future."

"The future?"

"We'll talk about this later," she simply said, and gave me another hug. "Just think that you don't have an opponent anymore now," she whispered, pulling away from me. "I'll be in the room until the end of the trial. Give me a call when everything cooled off."

With that, she walked away, leaving me dumbfounded.

"What did she say?" Michael asked, coming from behind me a few seconds after my boss left the room.

"I think she just promoted me and gave me her job," I declared, looking into space.

I was pretty sure that my boss indirectly just named me the new boss of Nous Model by telling me I didn't have an opponent anymore. There was no more battle between Paulina and I, as she fired her. I was all alone in the competition to be the new boss of Emily's agency, which technically made me the winner of this long, tough battle.

"What? What do you mean?"

"She fired Paulina," I told Michael, turning around to look at him. "She basically said I was the only one to compete to replace her at the head of the agency."

"You're going to be the boss?" Michael excitedly asked, taking my hand in his. "For real?"

"I think so, but she said I had to go to her office to—"

Before we could even be happy about this, and wrap our mind around what Emily just told me, a deputy interrupted us and told us the judge and jurors were ready to hand down the verdict.

Suddenly, all of my fear and anxiety came back to me at once. I grasped Michael's hand tightly and looked at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm right behind you," he assured me, giving my hand a squeeze. "She's guilty, everybody knows that."

I simply nodded, and let go of his hand. I followed close behind Trent, and went back to sit at the front table.

My eyes crossed Paulina's for the first time as Trent forbade me to look at her, and the sight of her left me emotionless while she looked awfully bad.

I was stronger than her, and realizing this must had been quite painful for her.

But I couldn't care less.

The judge waited a few moments for the room to be quiet, which allowed me to take a circular look at the room and the people who were present.

Michael and Becks were seated at the first row right behind me, and Emily was two rows behind them along with Caleb. For Paulina, only her mother and Sasha, one of her newbies were there.

The judge hit his gavel, which caused me to turn around in his direction, and the room got quiet again.

"Will the jury foreperson please stand?" he asked, and one of the jurors stood up.  "Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?"

"Yes," the middle-aged black man answered firmly.

Following the juror's answer, the clerk got the verdict form from the forefront and handed it to the judge. He read it silently for a few seconds, and I couldn't see any emotions on his face that would make my nervousness vanish away.

Once he read it all, he handed the paper back to the clerk so that the verdict could be read.

Seconds felt like hours as the clerk waited for the room to be totally quiet. My palms were sweaty, my mouth was dry and my legs were shaking until...

"The jury finds the defendant guilty of drug possession and drug traffic," the clerk announced, as I stayed frozen in place, totally ignoring that everybody was cheering around me... But me.

I was watching the scene before my eyes like it was unrealistic. A deputy was handcuffing Paulina, and then another one took her away.

"Wait!" she yelled, as her eyes landed on me. "June, I'm sorry! I never meant to do such a thing! Let me talk to her!" she yelled, but the deputy wouldn't let her go. "I'm not as bad as you think!" she shouted before disappearing out of the room.

"The jury is thanked and excused. Court is adjourned," the judge declared, hitting his gavel down one last time.

"June, you won!" Michael cheered, as he was now standing just behind me. "Why aren't you happy?"

"I am, it's just that I expected her to be guilty of something worse. But I am happy. I just need to wrap my mind around this," I said, hugging his neck.

"She's at least guilty of something," Michael reassured before breaking the hug. "She's going to jail, right?" Michael asked Trent with hope.

"Just like the others she'll have to come back to know what her punishment is, but she's going to jail, that's for sure. Not for as long as we wished, but she's still going for at least two years."

"She's going to jail," I repeated, and slowly started to understand that I was finally free. "She's going to jail," I smiled. "The bitch is out of my life!"

"You're twisting one of my songs here, honey," Michael chuckled, just as everybody around us. "But you're right, the bitch is out of your life."

"Oh easy there, Mike," Becks laughed. "I think you should go back in the office, and go eat something. Cursing is not your thing, you must lack sugar," Becks announced, chuckling  as she looked at the several deputies still present in the courtroom.

***

The atmosphere was heavy and not a word would come out of my mouth. My palms were sweaty, my heart was pounding in my chest. The only thing I seemed to be able to focus on was Michael's hand that was gently rubbing my back.

Trent was going through the papers he had in front of him. He wouldn't talk to me either, as he wanted to stay focused on what was coming.

It was time. It was time for me to take my revenge on Frank.

"He's not going out. He's going right back to jail," Michael assured me, whispering in my ear.

"How can you be so sure?" I asked, turning fully to face him. "I'm having a bad feeling."

"You've been having bad feelings for days, but see? You won. Milo, Paulina and Stephanie are locked away."

"We only have the video surveillance. That's all we got. What if it's not enough? We barely hear what he says in those videos."

"I tried my best, I'm sorry," Michael said, and the judge entered the room again.

"All rise," the bailiff said, and I stood up, as I frowned in Michael's direction, trying to understand what he just said. "Department One of the Superior Court is now in session. Judge McGill presiding. Please be seated."

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Calling the case of Ms. June Wellington versus Mr. Frank DiLeo. Are both sides ready?"

"Ready, Your Honor," Trent said with confidence.

"Ready for the defense, Your Honor," DiLeo's attorney declared.

"Will the clerk please swear in the jury?"

"Will the jury please stand and raise your right hand? Do each of you swear that you will fairly try the case before this court, and that you will return a true verdict according to the evidence and the instructions of the court? Please say 'I do'," the jurors did what they were told, and my heart started beating even faster as my nervousness was growing. "You may be seated."

"Mr. Martins," the judge said, informing Trent to speak up. He stood up and cleared his throat before walking in front of the jury.

"Your Honor and ladies and gentlemen of the jury: the defendant has been charged with the crime of domestic violence, violent behavior, threats, and invasion of privacy back in 1987. Today, he was supposed to leave prison on parole for good behavior. I'm opposed to it, because the defendant threatened my client again, and is involved in a criminal investigation. The evidence will show that his behavior can't allow him to leave the prison. The defendant has been recorded on tape threatening my client again, and establishing a plan to cause her harm. The evidence I will present will prove to you that the defendant is guilty as charged."

"Mr. Cunningham?"

"Your Honor and ladies and gentlemen of the jury: under the law my client is presumed innocent until proven guilty. During this trial, you will hear no real evidence against my client. You will come to know the truth: that Mr. DiLeo was under the influence of powerful antidepressants which caused important mood swings, but also to be delirious. Therefore my client is not guilty."

"What the fuck," I muttered, completely dumbfounded.

"They gotta be kidding me," I heard Trent say next to me, and I turned my head towards him.

He was in a panic. I could see it clearly on his face. Noticing he was panicking, I started to panic even more.

I turned around to look at Michael, and his face looked as shocked as mine. He tried to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.

"It's not over, June," Becks encouraged in a soft voice, but I didn't pay any attention to her.

The people present in the room started talking to each other from each side, and it slowly became a mess which didn't help me relax.

We never expected Frank to have such a strong alibi. Ever.

"Please, silence," the judge ordered, slamming his gavel down. "Mr. Martins, please speak. How is it possible for you to charge the defendant with such allegations?"

"Your Honor," Trent started, standing up from his chair to walk in front of the judge and jurors, "Mr. DiLeo and my client have a past together. Indeed, one of the reason why the defendant is currently in jail is because he already threatened my client and acted violent towards her and her friends. With his past, we know for sure that Mr. DiLeo was a violent person. There is nothing new, so the fact that the defendant is under the influence of powerful antidepressants does not change anything," he explained, and I nodded, happy with my lawyer's words.

"Is that all, Mr. Martins?"

"It is for now, sir," Trent nodded, and came back sitting next to me.

"You did a great entrance," I supported him, whispering.

"I have a bad feeling," Trent said, and my blood ran cold. He turned to me, and the look in his eyes scared me. "If he was under medication when you visited him and that they have the proofs needed, I don't know what I'll be able to do."

"Mr. Cunningham?" the judge called after DiLeo's attorney, but I barely heard him as I was still numb from the bomb my lawyer dropped.

"Someone once said that jail changes people for the best, some others for the worst. My client has been taking these medications for two months, and his state improved. He was more relaxed. His anxiety, lack of sleep and miss of appetite vanished away thanks to those, as you can see on proof a),  Your Honor and ladies and gentlemen the jurors," the attorney said, giving Trent a copy of the evidence as well.

At that moment, I knew we would be screwed. He had proof, and we didn't have anything left. The video surveillance was useless as we knew he acted violent because of the influence of the pills he was taking.

It's like my hopes fell apart. I was giving up. There was nothing more we could do, and this simple thought was verified by the look on Trent's face.

Cunningham was speaking, but I couldn't turn my head to him as I was still looking at Trent, tears of anger and frustration pooling my eyes.

"Do something," I begged in a whisper.

"As compensation, his emotions were heightened, and particularly his anger. As you said, Ms. Wellington and him have a past. Not a brilliant one. As soon as my client saw her, the only feeling he had towards her was anger, as she's part of his being in jail," the attorney went on, looking at the judge. "I'm done, your honor."

"So you are telling me that a man with anger issues and who still is resentful at my client is going out of jail because of good behavior? This is insane!"

"Mr. DiLeo's stopped taking the medications a couple of days ago. He's perfectly fine now. You can take a look at this medical document where the  doctor explains Mr. DiLeo is well enough to stop taking antidepressants."

Trent came back next to me, and took a look at the document in between his hands. He looked at me again, and shook his head slightly, making me understand he didn't know what to do.

The more I thought about DiLeo's release from jail, the more my stomach twisted in pure fear and anger.

"I can still try to show them the videos with Stephanie," Trent murmured, not quite to me, but more to himself. "Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen the jurors, allow me to show you something," he announced, putting the tape in and turning the TV towards the jury and the judge. "This is the prison's visit room's video surveillance. Do you see this person, talking to the defendant?" he asked and the jurors nodded their heads. "This woman is Stephanie Grimm. Earlier this morning, she has been charged for attempting murder with premeditation on my client and her bodyguard, whom she shot in cold blood. He is still at the hospital at the moment, and he is still in a coma. What was Mr. DiLeo's relationship with that woman? None. Never did their name were assembled together ever. The only common point between them was the hate they shared for Ms. Wellington."

"Objection! This does not prove anything, Your Honor," DiLeo's attorney exclaimed.

"Sustained. What is your point, Mr. Martins?"

"My point is this. What would this woman want from the defendant if it's not causing harm to my client? If we listen closely, we can clearly hear Mr. DiLeo saying 'as soon as I get out of here.' They were definitely planning something against my client."

"And what proves this?"

"Mr. Collins here," he declared, turning to Caleb who was seated behind Michael, next to Becks.

He looked at me with widened eyes, and looked at Trent for any sign of understanding.

This wasn't part of the plan at all. Caleb was never asked to talk in this case, I never agreed on that. Trent's move just let me know how lost he was. He was trying desperately to find a way.

"Trent," I whispered.

"I'm sorry, June," he said, without addressing me a look.

"Please Mr. Collins. Come at the stand,"the judge said, and Caleb did as he was told, walking painfully to the stand.

The clerk made him swear on the Bible, and the look on his face translated that he was lost, and that he had no idea what to say or what to do. He had already been through a lot, and that's the reason why I never wanted him to talk about this again. I wanted to preserve him.

"Mr. Collins, you work with Ms. Wellington, is that correct?" Trent asked Caleb, walking to him.

"It is. We've been working together for a few months."

"We, as in you and the other models. Like Ms. Grimm. Right?"

"Right. Her, and three other models."

"At one point, you were involved with Ms. Grimm romantically speaking. Did she ever tell you what was her plan when she went to see Mr. DiLeo?"

"She said he would help her. They would both team up to cause June harm. She specifically told me that."

"Do you know Mr. DiLeo's exact words?"

"Objection! He wasn't even there. Plus, my client was on medication, he wasn't himself. I told you this. This is ridiculous."

"He said they'd make her pay for the misery she caused them," Caleb said in a shaky voice. "That's what he said according to Stephanie. She said they would meet up after Fr--DiLeo's release to make up some plan."

"Is this still the medication, according to you? Can someone do all of that just because of anger issues? I doubt it."

"Mr. Martins, there is nothing tangible in what you're saying. Do you have proof that can show this? Can a doctor confirm your say?"

"No, Your Honor, but it seems obvious. Having anger issues is way different than planning some kind of trap to cause my client harm."

"That'd be all, Mr. Martins."

Trent looked at the judge in disbelief and went to sit back next to me. He looked at me with his eyes full of compassion, "I'm sorry," he whispered to me once again.

Before I could say something back, the door of the court room opened loudly, making every head turn.

Tara?

Instinctively, I looked at Michael and Becks and they were both whispering to each other with the same confused look on.

"I think the jurors and I have enough proof to be able to take our decision now," he declared, as I bowed my head down in defeat.

"Excuse me ma'am, who let you in? We're in the middle of a trial here," one of the deputy asked my friend.

"Sorry for being late," Tara said, and then looked at the judge. "Your Honor, I am in possession of something that could change the ending of this trial."

"What the hell is she doing?" I asked myself in a whisper.

Tara walked down the alley to the judge with a sheet of paper in her hands. She looked around her, and when her eyes landed on me, she nodded her head slightly and mouthed "I got this" to me.

"Ma'am, you need to leave," one of the deputy said, reaching for Tara.

"I have the evidence that Mr. DiLeo never ceased to cause Ms. Wellington harm, and that the only thing he wants after his release from jail is to continue doing so."

"Ma'am, you need to go. Don't make me use force against you."

"Your Honor, please," she begged. "Let me read this letter for you."

"Deputy," the judge called after the policeman who was trying to make Tara go. "Step back. Let her speak," he announced, and I raised my head in surprise. "Be quick," the judge instructed.

Tara cleared her throat, "This, Your Honor, is the proof that Mr. DiLeo is guilty. Those are the words of Mr. Nelson. Prince Nelson," she declared in a shaky voice.

I turned my head quickly to Michael so that he would give me any kind of explanation, but he simply nodded his head as I looked in front of me again,  anxiety filling me again.

"Can you read the piece of paper out loud, please."

My friend nodded her head, and then exhaled slowly before she started to read the letter Prince sent.

"Your Honor,

My name is Prince Rogers Nelson. I couldn't be here today because I have to be in Las Vegas for a couple of days. As a consequence, I am writing you to testify against my former manager, Mr. Frank Michael DiLeo.

On September the 11th, three months ago, at approximately two in the afternoon, I went to see Mr. DiLeo in Santa Barbara County Jail after he gave a call, asking me to pay him visit.

At first, I thought he would tell me about some business that he forgot to tell me about and that I had to take care of, but it wasn't about this at all. The only thing we talked about was Mr. Jackson and his fiancée, Ms. Wellington.

Indeed, he told me about his will to make them break up, so that he would become Mr. Jackson's manager again when he would leave jail. He specifically asked me to seduce his fiancée for that to happen. I ignored what their past together was, so thinking it wasn't big deal, I simply did, and asked Ms. Wellington to be in my next video clip.

He knew Mr. Jackson and I had history together, and he used it against him by asking me specifically to do this.

As time passed by, I realized all of this plan was not innocent at all. It was aiming to hurt Ms. Wellington. He wanted her to suffer.

When I went to see him the second time on September 17th, Mr. DiLeo would ask me to do things I did not want to do. Horrible things.

He asked me to spread rumors about Ms. Wellington and Mr. Jackson, but he also did much worse. He asked me to lock her up until he the moment he would leave the prison.

He basically asked me to kidnap her, so that he could 'show her who's the boss', and 'make her pay for what she's done'. Those are his words. His exact words.

I never did such a thing. I never caused any harm to either Mr. Jackson or Ms. Wellington intentionally.

Mr. DiLeo is a master of manipulation. I wasn't his only henchman, if I can say this. He asked another man named Alex to make sure Michael and June stayed away from each other. When he saw he failed, he called me, and here we are now. He didn't succeed, and seeing he can't control their relationship is horrible for-- excuse my French, a control freak like him.

If proof is needed, you can ask the county jail to show you the video surveillance. I was there, and he told me this.

I am telling the truth, Your Honor. I swear this down on the Bible. I am a child of God, and truth is always the key.

Sincerely,

Prince Rogers Nelson."

"Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen from the jury," Trent spoke up, abruptly standing up. "The defendant wasn't taking those pills when Mr. Nelson went to see him. He was himself.  Totally  himself. The fact that he was treated with depression is just a coincidence. This is nothing but an excuse to make this man look like he's innocent while he is a criminal. Allowing him to leave prison because of his good behavior wouldn't be the right thing to do, as he didn't act good."

I could hear the crowd whisper behind me and in the whole room. I would have turned around if my eyes weren't full of tears of anger, relief, anxiety, hopefulness.

Tons of question ran across my mind, but I couldn't answer them. I didn't even know if I'd be able to voice them.

I wasn't expecting this at all. I never wanted him to be involved in this, and I never thought he would help me as he wanted to stay out of my life.

Was it his final goodbye? Did he want to leave my life on a good note?

Once again, I knew nothing.

"I am late because I came directly from Las Vegas where Mr. Nelson wrote this letter. I am ready to swear this down, Your Honor."

"Be my guest," the judge answered.

Las Vegas?

"Did you..." I started, addressing Michael.

He simply nodded, and I understood. Michael looked as confused and lost as me, though, which added more question marks in my head.

"Would that be all, Mr. Martins? Mr. Cunningham?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Trent said with a newly found confidence, and DiLeo's attorney did the same.

"Now I'll ask everybody to please leave the room. You'll be called back when the jury is ready to hand the verdict down."

Judge McGill hit his gavel down again, and left the room, just like all the jurors. Michael, Tara, Becks and the others left the room as well, and I waited for Trent's signal to leave as well, and come back into the isolated office we were before.

My legs were shaky, for I didn't know what was coming next. For the first time of the day, I really didn't know what was going to happen. For the three previous trials, I could see things were going well, and I never doubted Trent's abilities to be a good lawyer until this particular moment where I saw helplessness in his eyes, when he apologized.

I stood up and followed close behind Trent to the office where Michael and the others were.

"June, this is going to work," Trent said, after he grabbed my forearm. "I—I didn't know about Prince's letter. I just knew Michael visited him."

"What? W—Why didn't you tell me?"

"Just like Michael, we didn't want to give you false hopes if Prince refused to come here to help. I'm sorry," he sincerely said, looking down.

"And you think this is going to be enough? The letter?"

"I do hope so," he sighed.

Before entering the room, Trent gave me yet another sorry look, as I stood there for a couple of seconds, trying to compose myself. "Keep your head up," I coached myself, as I exhaled loudly.

"June!" someone called from behind me, as I was about to come in the office. "June!"

When I turned around, the sight before my eyes caused a smile to appear on my tired and worried face. Sheila and April came rushing to me, and hugged the life out of me for a few seconds as Caleb followed behind them. I didn't mind at all. I didn't mind having them around me through such a stressful time.

"Guys, I didn't know you were coming! Who let you in?" I asked, as I pulled away from the grouped hug.

"Is there any room for me?" a sweet voice asked from next to Caleb.

The newbies stepped aside to let me see who the person in question was, and the sight of Crystal brought fresh tears to gather in my eyes.

"Crystal!" I almost shouted, and took her in my arms, hugging her tightly against me. "H—How... Oh my God, how are you doing? Are you alright? Is the rehab over? Where are—"

"June, breathe," she chuckled, and hearing this sound seemed new to me, as it felt like ages I didn't hear it. "I'm fine now," she assured me, as I cupped her face to examine her closely.

I almost forgot how beautiful this eighteen year old girl was.

He piercing green eyes looked right through me, and it's like they translated nothing but happiness like the very first time I met her. She wore a navy blue dress with black heels, and she looked amazing. She visibly followed that one fashion advice I gave her ages ago. I told her that this color matched perfectly with her complexion, and that was the honest truth.

"I missed you so much," I sincerely said, as I hugged her once again. "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're all here," I added, opening my arms wider so that the three other newbies could join the grouped hug once again.

"We'll stand by you no matter what," Sheila said, rubbing my back as her head was on my shoulder. "You're not only our boss, you occupy a bigger place in our lives."

"Like a second mom," April added, and a smile touched my lips at their kind words.

"Come on, guys!"

I pulled away from them, and took Crystal's hand in mine as I came in the office with my four newbies.

"Look who's here!" I cheered, as every head turned to me.

"Crystal?" Michael said, his mouth agape in shock. "W—what are you doing here? Are you coming back around here?" he asked, walking up to us.

"That's the plan," she nodded her head, looking up to me. "And I was hoping I could get my job back?"

"What? Is this serious?" I asked, and she nodded frantically as I smiled even wider. "O—Of course! You never lost your job, you just did a little break," I winked at her, and she giggled again. "Look at this, guys. We're a team again."

"We never stopped being a team. It was just a bit more difficult," Caleb said with a sincere smile I didn't see for weeks. "And you're the one who created this team. This family."

"This family," I nodded, smiling. "I guess every family has its drama, right?"

"Sure does!" Sheila agreed, laughing. "We're back now. We're going to kick some asses."

"Whoo!" April and Crystal exclaimed, which made me giggle at them as Michael put his arm around my waist and rubbed the small of my back gently.

I looked up at him, he looked down at me, and I could see he was happy things were getting better for me. His eyes found their sparkles back, and witnessing this was always the best sight in the world to me. All of my anxiety and fear vanished away just by the way my fiancé was looking at me.

"Guys, can we talk later?" I asked, as it was hard to break eye contact with my fiancé. "I need to discuss some things with Michael."

"Sure thing," Crystal said, rubbing my forearm gently. "We'll be there at the end of the trial. And no matter what is the jury's verdict, you're going to be happy."

"I am already," I sincerely said, trying not to cry... again. "Thank you again for being here," I said, as they all smiled at me before leaving the room. "Wait, Caleb!" I called, grabbing his forearm before he could follow his friends out of the room. "I just wanted to thank you. For everything you've done today."

"Don't mention it," he smiled, as he took my hand in his and squeezed it a bit. "I owed you. Big time."

I simply smiled and let go of his hand as he left the noisy room.

Having my newbies back together was one of the things I wanted to happen. I loved my job, then, and at this particular moment. Even though this was the reason of my misery, I never gave up in doing what I did because the kids needed me. I tried to protect them but miserably failed, it's true, but I fought for them. I fought for Caleb because he was worth it, and never did I stop fighting for Sheila and April and tried to give them the best of me everyday.

"Crystal looks great," Michael's voice tore me away from my thoughts. "I had no idea she was coming."

"She does," I grinned, intertwining my fingers with his. "They all look great. I'm so proud."

"You can be proud of yourself, baby. You made them who they are," Michael smiled, grazing his thumb on my cheek. "You made mistakes, but everybody does. The biggest mistake you did was being too nice toward Paulina."

"Yeah, I should have been warier and consider the things she did to me in the past," I admitted, and shrugged. "Never a failure, always a lesson."

"Exactly," he smiled brightly, showing me his pearly whites and kissed the top of my head.

"You didn't have any work meetings in Las Vegas, huh?" I asked after a few seconds of silence as my head was rested on Michael's chest.

He sighed heavily, and put me at arm's length, "No, I didn't."

"You were with Prince?" I asked, looking at him, as he nodded his head, shamefully down.

"I didn't want to lie to you. I just... I just didn't want to tell you and give you f—"

"False hopes," I nodded, my mouth forming a slight smile. "It's okay. You did that for my own good."

"I had to ask him. I had to at least try," he told me, looking straight at me. "I—I had a bad feeling about this, and I did everything possible to let this man rot in jail. I didn't sleep for nights, because I was too busy thinking of ways to let him behind bars. Then, Prince sent this letter to you, and that was my cue. I needed to see him, and I knew he was in Las Vegas."

"Is he—is he okay?"

"He's moving on," he assured me, nodding. "It's hard, but he is."

"Did you talk together? Like, did you have a real conversation and all?"

"He's giving a charity concert tonight, I went to see him at his soundcheck so we didn't have quite a lot of time, but we did. I told him about the trials, about everything. I tried to convince him to do something about Frank. When I left, I didn't know if he would do something or not."

"Why didn't he want to do it first?"

"Because he wrote that he would stop coming into your life, and he wanted to keep this promise," Michael shrugged slightly, before tilting my chin up. "He needs to heal, okay?"

"I know," I said, slowly nodding.

"Guys?" Tara's voice was heard behind us.

"Tara," I smiled, and gave her a tight hug. "Thank you."

"I'm glad to see you too," she chuckled as she rubbed my back gently.

"How?" Michael asked once we pulled away. "How did you do to convince him?"

"I just had to remind him some things," she shrugged with a little smile. "Now I hope I didn't jump on that plane for nothing."

"It's gonna work," Michael declared with confidence.

It had to work.