Page 77 of Double Standards
I need to calm him down before he explodes like an atomic bomb. The look on Axel’s face is pure, unfiltered rage, and I can practically hear the gears in his head grinding at full speed.
“I’ve got this,” I whisper-shout, planting myself in my chair with purposeful resolve.
Daniels begins detailing his so-called recent findings to the court. It’s not the first time a stunt like this has been pulled, and Iknow exactly how fast things can spiral. So, I steel myself and stand to address Judge Michaelson. “We were not made aware of this, Your Honor.”
“It only just came to my attention,” Daniels replies, voice soaked in smug vindication.
“At what time, exactly, were you made aware of this evidence?” Judge Michaelson asks, one brow arched in suspicion. He’s already catching on to the game Daniels is playing, but his hands are tied by impartiality.
“Just before entering the courtroom, Your Honor.”
Of course.It’s a power play; one used to make Michaelson question his moral obligation to the city.
Michaelson’s gaze flicks between us, weighing the situation. Daniels shifts nervously under the scrutiny, while I roll my shoulders back, calm and unwavering. Whatever his ruling, I’m ready. IbelieveAxel—and if I do, then I know this evidence is bullshit. It’s my job to make sure that’s proven in here today.
With a heavy sigh, Michaelson narrows his eyes and says, “Objection overruled.”
Shit.
I sit back down, heart pounding. Axel turns to me, eyes full of questions I can’t answer right now. The judge’s word is final, and the last thing I’m going to do is risk the trial by speaking out of turn.
Daniels approaches with the file, handing it to me like a dog dropping a dead bird at my feet; smug and pleased with himself. I take it without blinking. Axel’s glare darkens, and Daniels retreats quickly. Anyone else might be intimidated. Me? I’ve seen Axel’s softer side. The side that roughs up his edges but never turns them onme.
“I’d like to call the defendant to the stand,” Daniels announces, turning toward Axel with theatrical flair.
Our eyes lock. He’s searching mine for reassurance, for something steady to anchor him.
“You’ve got this,” I whisper, my voice low and certain, hoping he remembers everything we talked about.
The room falls into a tense silence as Axel stands. He’s sworn in, and I watch, breath held, as he takes the stand. His eyes find mine again.
I give him a subtle nod.
Trust me.
While Daniels questions Axel, I flip through the file he just handed me. CCTV stills of Axel’s car. Shots from different angles, different timestamps, all neatly labeled. But none of that means anything without a corresponding report. I rifle through the photos. Shots of the crime scene. Evidence markers. But nothing—nothing—points directly to Axel. My shoulders loosen slightly.
“Mr. Bonanno, can you tell me where you were on the night of October sixteenth?” Daniels leans against the prosecution table, one leg propped like he’s posing for a tabloid.
Axel glances my way, but there’s no fear in his eyes. Just the cool, contained confidence I told him to lean into. And damn if he isn’t doing it well—sitting there like sin in a silver suit. Daniels is the one sweating now.
“Home,” Axel replies with a shrug.
Daniels lifts a photo and steps forward. “Can you identify this car?”
Axel barely spares it a glance. “Yes.”
“This is your car?” Daniels clarifies.
“Yes,” Axel grinds out.
“Can you explain what it was doing outside the Mayor’s home at approximately 9 p.m. that evening?”
There’s a twitch at Axel’s jawline as he clenches his teeth. Daniels can’t hide the smirk he thinks he’s earned.
“It wasn’t,” Axel states, his voice firm.
“CCTV places your car there. The cameras don’t lie, Mr. Bonanno.”
