Yemisi

Everything felt like a whirlwind—Mrs. Bailey’s arrest, the investigation, and now, the trial. It was all happening so quickly.

Ireti and Kayode insisted I should "dress my best" today, though their reasoning was vague. According to Ireti, it was “to spite Alessia’s mum.” I still didn’t understand why my outfit would make any difference to Mrs. Bailey.

Settling for a simple dress and my white sneakers, I made my way out, letting Ireti’s grumbles about my choice of attire drift over me on the drive to court. She had opinions—always—but my mind was elsewhere, focused solely on the case and my upcoming testimony.

Alessia’s mum had wealth and influence; this wouldn’t be an easy battle.

When we arrived, the courthouse swarmed with reporters, their cameras flashing and microphones thrust in our faces.

“Is it true you’re a victim of Mrs. Bailey’s schemes?”

“A lot of people say this is just a distraction from your own issues—care to comment?”

“And is it true that you’re Mr. Bailey’s illegitimate child?”

Following Mr. Andrew’s instructions, I ignored the questions, pushing forward silently. Behind us, the van carrying Mrs. Bailey pulled up, and the reporters flooded her as well.

“Let’s go,” Ireti murmured, gripping my hand as she steered us toward the courtroom.

Inside, the air felt thick, almost suffocating. My family’s eyes followed me, silently urging me on. I could feel their support, their hope, the weight of everything we’d been through together.

As I approached the stand, I took a deep breath, steadying my trembling hands. This was it—the moment we’d been waiting for. My chance to face the woman who had turned our lives inside out.

I began recounting the events with as much composure as I could muster, each word pulling me back to that fateful day. I spoke of my visit to Mrs. Bailey’s extravagant home, the tension crackling as she handed me an envelope, a gesture that felt harmless at the time.

"It wasn’t until later," I continued, voice steady despite the roiling emotions beneath, "that I learned the envelope didn’t hold waste paper. Inside was my DNA test result, altered to deceive me and my family."

Gasps echoed around the room, the sound merging with murmurs of disbelief. But I wasn’t alone in this battle.

The maid, previously a quiet presence in the courtroom’s corner, stepped forward, her hands shaking as she confirmed my story.

And then, the doctor—a man respected in his field—took the stand, his face clouded with regret. His words carried the weight of shame as he admitted to accepting a bribe, confessing to manipulating the DNA test results in exchange for Mrs. Bailey’s money.

Mrs. Bailey’s lawyer rose to her defense, a slick, practiced presence, his voice attempting to sow doubt in the jury’s minds. He painted her as a victim of misunderstanding, a woman caught in unfortunate circumstances.

But each of his points crumbled beneath the solid truth of our testimony. The jury’s skepticism dissolved with every detail, every lie that Mrs. Bailey’s actions had so clearly exposed.

When the judge finally spoke, sentencing Mrs. Bailey to five years in prison, a mixture of emotions welled within me—relief, vindication, and yet, a sadness for a woman whose own greed had led to her downfall.

As we left the courtroom, hand in hand, I felt a quiet sense of closure. This wasn’t just about vengeance; it was about reclaiming our lives, freeing ourselves from the grip of deceit. The path ahead might be long and fraught with new challenges, but we would face it together, bolstered by the belief that, in the end, the truth will always find its way.

Author's Note
I hope una know sey 5 years imprisonment no be moin-moin
Anyways it's payback time for Yemisi
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