Chapter 7

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"Would you say your ex-fiancée acted peculiar at times?" Marissa Pearl asked.

"Peculiar," John Vanderpilt repeated. "May I get a definition?"

Sapphire appeared calm, but her pulse raced. Her anxiety grew every time her eyes drew to the time.

"Oh, for the love of..." The prosecutor rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "Strange, odd, unusual."

"Yes, she didn't want to marry me." When Marissa stared at John, he elaborated. "It's strange because I'm elite." He moved closer to the microphone. "E-l-i-t-e, elite."

Sapphire looked at the clock again. She felt like she would explode if she didn't get out of there soon. John wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed and his dullness was dragging out the cross-examination.

"Would you consider Sapphire animalistic at times?"

"No. We never had sex. Or foreplay." He eyed the microphone. "F-o-r—"

The witness stand and the microphone must've reminded him of a Spelling Bee, because he kept spelling words out.

The air conditioning blasted inside, but the event caused Sapphire such nervous sweats, she had to take off her blazer.

She'd waited for her father in the empty alley, trying to figure out how to possibly take him down, before she realized something was wrong. She went back inside to find chaos; curtains were on fire and people, waiters, diners, were screaming and running.

A bad feeling came over Sapphire as she wrestled her way up to her and Chrissy's table. Her heart stopped when she reached the empty chair and the card placed on it: Happy 6th Birthday.

Sapphire tried to control her shaking hands as she opened it.

Eloise Parker.

The disorder of the restaurant was nothing compared to the chaos Sapphire felt inside. Her father, a serial killer, had taken Chrissy and left Sapphire the name of her and John's ex-wedding planner.

It was a message to go to Eloise's house, and Sapphire feared what waited for her there. She couldn't bear to add more names to her guilt-list. She couldn't bear to lose Chrissy.

No one except Sapphire knew Chrissy was gone—her parents would be out of the country until next week—and Sapphire had to keep it this way. Both for the sake of her trial and because she didn't know what her father would do to Chrissy if the cops got involved.

Sapphire looked at the clock again, praying her best friend was still alive.

At least John was the final character witness of the day. Julia went before him. Whenever Marissa Pearl tried to imply something negative about Sapphire, Julia had given her best how-dare-you look and called her a bruja under her breath. The care Julia displayed somehow made the betrayal burn deeper, so Sapphire opted out of eye contact.

"Mr. Vanderpilt," Marissa continued. "If I told you your ex-fiancée has captured eight serial killers, what would you say?"

John looked at Sapphire and laughed. "She couldn't even open a jar of pickles." He turned serious and leaned in. "P-i-c-k-e-l-s. Pickles."

"That is... incorrect," Judge Biggs said.

"Darn it." John swung his fist in frustration.

Marissa Pearl gave the judge an exasperated look, then turned to Sapphire with fire in her eyes. "Couldn't open a jar of pickles, huh?"

Sentencing Sapphire (Sapphire Dubois: Book 3)Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora