When it’s time for court I’m sweating bullets.

It takes me forever to settle on what to wear and Vinny rechecks with his lawyer for the fifth time before we head out.

Since the case has provoked a reputation, we thankfully have a private hearing. The court room feels empty and cold when I file in behind Vinny. All the eyes glare at us like we’re prisoners awaiting trial. Vinny isn’t moved and guides me to my seat. Towards the front I see my dad turn around and give me a nasty look. I can only imagine what he’d do to me if I was within arms-length.

“A lot worse than I imagined,” I whisper as I sit down.

Vinny plants a kiss on my head. “Ignore them. They’re all guilty anyway.” Vinny kisses me again, this time on the lips. A few gasps and whispers fill the empty courtroom.

Those huge doors leading to the hallway are hard to look at. In the next hour, we’ll either walk out feeling redemption, or we have to accept a darker future. Neither one of us is fully prepared to lose. Everything is at stake.

Eventually, a meaty judge walks to his seat and the case begins.

“Judge Sander,” Nick whispers beside me. “He’s really tough. A bulldog. No one gets off with him.” My heart leaps.

“Don’t say that, Nick!”

He shakes his head. “We need to be realistic, at least.”

I make quick eye contact with the judge, and his huge eyes stare down at me like I’m nothing. Judge Sanders looks to be around the same age as my dad, but his skin is thinner and his eyes sharper.

“We will begin,” he says. My dad of course takes the stand first. Aside from lying through his teeth, he tries to paint himself as an innocent bystander forced into the business.

“Didn’t you have documents that connect you to money laundering found when you were arrested?” Judge Sanders cuts in. My dad laughs nervously.

"Those three," he seethed, pointing accusingly at the trio in front of him, "set me up." He continues to glare at me. For a split second, I do feel guilty. He’s my dad after all. What daughter wants their parent to suffer? But all I have to do is remember the horrible childhood I lived through. The fact that my dad had no issue letting me get killed to cover his tracks. He deserves everything coming. The lawyer representing my Dad seems to be at a loss for words, their rehearsed script now has gone out of the window.

“Mr. Newton?” Judge Sanders asks loudly.

“I’m literally being framed and they get to walk away?” my dad shouts. “Rosa used me to cover up his mess.”

“Like a rat in a corner,” Nick whispers.

“We got him,” I whisper back. My dad begins to go on a tangent as he insults everyone in the courtroom. That’s his way of showing he’s overwhelmed. I’ve seen him do it plenty of times. Unfortunately for him, it just makes Judge Sanders angry.

“I’m warning you, Newton!”

My dad shouts. “After everything I’ve done for that brat and the Montoyas, I’ll be damned if you try to pin your mess on me!”

My ears are ringing and Nick holds onto my hand tightly, making me stay calm. I can feel everyone’s eyes on Nick and me but hold my ground. If I break, it’ll make what my dad’s saying a little too true. However, luck is on our side as the judge roars over my dad’s tantrum.

“You clearly want to rot in prison for all the mess you’ve created and defying me in my own courtroom!” the judge yells.

My dad squirms in his seat. “It wouldn’t matter. They always win,” he says under his breath. The final loose threads in my dad all unravel. He looks like a wild man.

“Where’s my wife? I can’t…I can’t do this,” he begins to plead. That’s who's missing. My mom. Panic rises in me and Nick nudges me once more.

“Keep cool. It’s almost over,” he whispers.

The judge continues as if my dad isn’t breaking in front of him. “Mr. Newton, did you try to frame the Montoyas?”

My dad shakes his head over and over. No words come out to defend himself. He’s like a scared kid on the stand. I now know why Vinny had a hard time taking down his dad. It’s torture. But when Vinny peers back at me, I take my sons to the court, hoping my dad will see how much joy our family can have if he makes the right choices, and how determined I am to make him pay his crimes.

It has to be this way.

“If you want to point the finger, why don’t you ask yourself why these criminals get to run free and the only time your weak lawmakers throw them in jail is if it involves your money!” my dad roars. It’s the final blow for him. The judge’s face glows bright red.

“It’s obvious to me that you want to spend your last days in a dirty cell. So, how about we just give you a 70-to-life sentence,” Judge Sanders hisses. Shock is all over my dad’s face, followed by tears.