Part 10
The jury deliberation lasted less than two hours.
When we were called back into the courtroom to hear the verdict, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Madison was brought back in, heavily restrained and sedated. She sat limply in her chair, staring blankly at the table. My mother sat behind her, looking utterly crushed and broken.
"Will the defendant please stand," Judge Vance ordered.
Madison was helped to her feet by two guards.
"Madam Foreperson, has the jury reached a verdict?"
An older woman in the front row of the jury box stood up, holding a piece of paper. "We have, Your Honor."
She looked directly at Madison, her expression stern and unyielding.
"On the count of felony aggravated assault, we find the defendant, Madison Carter, guilty."
A quiet gasp escaped my mother's lips.
"On the count of first-degree feticide, we find the defendant, Madison Carter, guilty."
Relief washed over me so intensely my knees felt weak. Ethan caught me, wrapping his strong arm around my waist, pulling me close against his chest. He closed his eyes, a long, shaky breath escaping his lips. We had done it. We had gotten justice for our little angel.
One month later was the sentencing hearing. Judge Vance did not hold back.
"Madison Carter," the judge said, looking down from her bench with an icy glare. "In my twenty years on the bench, I have rarely seen such an appalling lack of remorse. You took the life of an innocent unborn child out of nothing more than spite, malice, and unchecked narcissism. And your parents’ lifelong enabling of your behavior is a tragedy in its own right."
Judge Vance leaned forward. "For the charge of aggravated assault, I sentence you to ten years. For the charge of first-degree feticide, I sentence you to the maximum penalty of thirty years. These sentences will run consecutively. You will serve forty years in a maximum-security state penitentiary, with no possibility of parole until you have served at least eighty percent of that time."
Madison finally broke. She let out a pathetic, wailing cry as the guards led her away. She would be an old woman before she ever tasted freedom again.
My father subsequently pled guilty to his charges, receiving a five-year prison sentence for his violent break-in. My mother, left completely broke by the legal fees and the multi-million dollar civil judgment Ethan won against them, was forced to sell their mansion and move into a tiny, dilapidated apartment on the outskirts of the state. The Carter empire was completely ruined.
Six months after the trial, Ethan and I packed up our things. We sold our house outside Denver. There were too many painful memories there, too many ghosts.
We bought a beautiful, sun-drenched home near the coast in California, far away from the toxic past. We spent our days walking on the beach, listening to the crashing waves, and slowly, piece by piece, healing our broken hearts.
One morning, as the sun was rising over the ocean, casting a brilliant golden light across our new kitchen, I felt a familiar wave of nausea. My heart skipped a beat.
With trembling hands, I went into the bathroom and took a test.
Five minutes later, I walked out onto the back deck where Ethan was drinking his coffee. I didn't say anything. I just handed him the plastic stick.
Two pink lines.
May you like
Ethan stared at it, his eyes instantly filling with tears. He stood up, dropped his coffee cup, and pulled me into his arms, spinning me around as the tears flowed freely down both of our faces.
This time, there was no toxic family to threaten us. This time, our baby would be born into a world of absolute love, safety, and peace.
