Page 36 of Temptation and Tyranny

After passing through the security checkpoint atthe main entrance, I made my way through the echoing marble corridors, my heels clicking against the floor. Today’s hearing was part of the instruction process—a closed proceeding where thejuge d’instructionwould review the evidence against Tomas. My lawyer had assured me my presence was required for this particular session, though most of these proceedings happened behind closed doors.

Myavocat, Maître Mercier, waited for me near the designated chamber, her black robe marking her as part of this world of law and justice. She briefed me in hushed tones about what to expect. “Remember,” she said carefully, “thejuge d’instructionis investigating the truth, not judging guilt. Answer only what is asked, directly and clearly. This is not yet the trial—it is part of the inquiry.”

The chamber where the hearing would take place was nothing like what movies had led me to expect. Instead of a traditional courtroom, it was a formal office-like room dominated by a large, imposing desk where thejuge d’instructionwould sit. A few chairs were arranged before it, and a clerk’s desk sat to one side. The atmosphere was intimate, almost claustrophobic.

That’s when I saw him.

My heart leapt into my throat as I spotted a familiar profile in the corridor outside. Cooper. What was he doing here? I felt a surge of conflicting emotions—relief at seeing a familiar face, anger at him for getting shot, and a confusing flutter of attraction that I couldn’t quite squash. But before I could process his presence, Maître Mercier ushered me into the chamber.

Thejuge d’instruction, a stern-looking woman in her fifties wearing the traditional black robeswith whiterabat, sat behind her desk. Her presence commanded immediate respect. Agreffiersat ready to transcribe everything. The proceedings would be conducted entirely in French, with my lawyer there to assist if I needed clarification.

Tomas was brought in separately with his ownavocat, and I forced myself to keep my eyes forward. From my peripheral vision, I could see how different he looked—haggard and resentful in his detention-issued clothing. The hatred emanating from him was palpable, but I squared my shoulders, refusing to be intimidated.

The hearing progressed with methodical precision. Thejuge d’instructionreviewed evidence, asked pointed questions, and made notes while thegreffierrecorded everything. Tomas’s lawyer argued for dismissal, citing procedural errors, but the prosecutor, standing at a small podium, countered with a detailed presentation of evidence—eyewitness accounts, physical evidence, and financial records that hinted at deeper criminal involvement.

The formality of the proceedings, conducted entirely in rapid-fire French, felt somehow both reassuring and surreal. This wasn’t the dramatic courtroom scene I’d imagined—instead, it was something more measured, more focused on uncovering truth than creating a spectacle.

After what felt like hours, the session concluded. Thejuge d’instructioninformed us that she would review all the evidence presented and that her decision regarding whether to send the case to trial would be communicated formally within the week. It wasn’t the immediate resolution I’d hoped for, but Maître Mercier assured me this was normal—even expected.

As we left the chamber, I searched the corridor for Cooper, but he had vanished. Had he really been there, or had my stressed mind conjured him up? And if he was there, why? The questions swirled in my mind as I made my way back through the grand corridors of thePalais de Justice, the weight of the morning’s proceedings heavy on my shoulders.

One thing was certain: whatever thejuge d’instructiondecided, this was far from over. And somehow, I knew Cooper’s presence today wasn’t a coincidence. In this world of careful legal procedure and ancient tradition, something else was playing out—something that went far beyond a simple criminal case.

As the courtroom began to empty, I saw Cooper in the back, but he seemed to be ignoring me.

I couldn’t believe that we’d…fooled around and now he pretended not to know me. Rage came over me, at both Cooper and my own stupidity. He was a player. He got an orgasm from me and now he was done with me. I should have seen it coming. Men weren’t to be trusted. I knew I’d told him we didn’t have a future, but to ignore me completely? It hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I caught up to him in the hallway outside the courtroom. Without thinking, I grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face me.

“What the hell?” I hissed, hardly mindful of the other people milling about. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be here? And why are you ignoring me, especially after what happened between us—?”

He blinked at me, confusion evident on his face. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

His voice was different—softer, less confidentthan I was used to hearing from Cooper. There were no flirtatious undertones, no hint of quiet amusement.

“Don’t play games with me, Cooper,” I snapped. “I’ve had enough of your secrets and lies. First, you get me involved in your dangerous world, and now you ignore me? I know we said it was a one time thing, but to pretend you don’t even know me—”

Shock transformed his features. “Miss, I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

But I was too worked up to listen. My intense fear from last week, frustration, and confusion boiled over. Before I could stop myself, my hand connected with his cheek in a resounding slap.

The sharp crack echoed in the hallway, drawing startled looks from passersby. For a moment, we both stood there, frozen in shock. Then, rubbing his reddening cheek, he spoke again.

“I’m not Cooper,” he said softly. “I’m his twin brother, Colton.”

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I stared at him, really looking this time, and suddenly the differences were glaringly obvious. The softer set of his jaw, the less muscular build, the gentler demeanor. This wasn’t Cooper at all.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, horror and embarrassment flooding through me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t...I mean, I thought...”

Colton’s expression softened, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time I’ve been mistaken for my brother, and surprisingly enough, this isn’t the first time I’ve been slapped for it, either.”

I covered my face with my hands, mortified. “I’mso, so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. Are you okay?”

He chuckled, the sound surprisingly warm given the circumstances. “I’m fine. You’ve got quite an arm on you, though. I can see why my brother likes you.”

I lowered my hands, surprised. “Cooper talks about me?”

Colton’s smile widened. “Not specifically. But Steele mentioned…I knew there had to be someone…But maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere more private? I could use a coffee, and I have a feeling you might have some questions.”

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