Drew had shot up onto the bed beside him and thrown her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely. "Don't you do that," she warned, her low voice shaking. "Don't you do that. What that man did—none of us could control that. It was going to happen whether you were there or not. I believe it was my fate that it happened. Don't do this, Dad."
Her father had wiped a hand down his face, brushing away his tears and Drew had leaned her head on his shoulder. He patted one of her hands clumsily as they stayed that way for a while. Finally, her father had sighed.
"He didn't deserve that, baby," he admitted softly, and Drew knew he meant Heath. "I should—I should go apologize."
Drew had kissed his cheek. "You should, but it can wait until we get back to Pittsburgh. Okay? Let me get my stuff packed up."
Mr. Carnevale had looked up at her in surprise. "You're not stayin'?"
Drew shook her head sadly, silently forfeiting the war she'd intended to have. "I—I should be with you guys right now," she had replied quietly. "This is a hard time for you and Mom and everyone else like it is for me. We should be together. As a family."
And so, she had reluctantly packed her things and left with her father, casting a long look back at the bed she'd shared with Heath the night before as she shut the door behind her. She had sent Heath a text, hating herself for leaving him, but she knew how much her parents needed her. She had known that her ordeal had hurt them worse than it had hurt her, but seeing her father break down in front of her had torn her heart. Her father had always been loud and boisterous, one of the sources of her strength, and to see that strength crumble before her had humbled her. She knew Heath could relate to that, but she still hated that she was leaving him on this day. She'd hoped he could forgive her.
She knew the outcome of Smackdown now, and was terribly sad and angry over it—something didn't sit well with her about the outcome. She hadn't talked to Heath last night; he hadn't returned her texts and she couldn't blame him. She knew she'd broken her promise to him to stay and he was probably incredibly disappointed in her. She hoped he would be willing to talk in person when she got home tomorrow.
But for right now, she couldn't think of anything else aside from what she needed to do in a few moments. She'd caught a glimpse of him, of Jackson James, earlier when they were all making their way upstairs to their courtroom. No one else had seen him, and no one had seen her see him. But she saw him, just the same, and it terrified her. He looked exactly the same and his cold, dead dark eyes had bored into her. She couldn't be sure, but she'd thought he'd smiled at her.
The door to the courtroom opened up and a hush fell over her family.
"Drew Carnevale?" the female bailiff asked, looking at her. Drew nodded and slowly ,unsteadily rose to her feet. "Please come with me. You've been called as a witness in the State versus Jackson James trial."
Drew swallowed hard and looked around at her family. She saw concern, fear, and love on their faces. Bunz reached out and squeezed her hand, and Drew returned it weakly.
"We'll be waiting right in the next room, baby," her father promised. He pointed down the hall. "That one there. Okay?"
"Okay, John," Drew replied. She turned and followed the bailiff into courtroom, her stomach tightening with every step.
The room was small and had hard wooden floors. There were a few rows of benches behind two long tables, set in opposition of each other on either side of the aisle that led from the area she was standing now to a set of doors at the back of the room. There was a judge's bench and to the side of that, were a dozen men and women she'd never seen before. There were a couple of lawyers present, to hear her testimony and question her. There were guards and a couple of NYPD officers.
And there was the man who had done everything in his power to torture her and end her life.
Drew stood rooted in place, unable to break the gaze she held with Jackson James. He wasn't smiling now but his eyes were as dark and dead as they had been before. They were pure evil. Her head began to spin and waves of nausea roiled through her stomach. Sweat beaded her skin and her pulse accelerated to a level that left her shaking and breathless.
"Miss Carnevale?" the judge called gently from his booth. Drew turned her eyes toward him, seeing a white-haired, grandfatherly face peering at her from behind a pair of spectacles. "Would you please come forward?"
Drew turned her eyes back toward Jackson James, and gagged. She clapped a hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears involuntarily.
"Bailiff, please escort Miss Carnevale to the restroom," the judge said quickly. "We'll hold briefly for the witness to compose herself."