Where Darkness Learned Breath by Rylor Dusk 128

128 Chapter 128: War on Sophia 

Aria’s POV – Weeks Later (1 

The courthouse was packed. Media, spectators, Sophia’s family–all crammed into the gallery to watch the trial of the year. 

“State versus Sophia Clarke” was front–page news. Not just because of the assault charges, but because of who was involved. Two of the city’s most prominent business figures, a drugging scandal, staged photos, and a conspiracy that was still being unraveled. 

I sat in the front row behind the prosecution table, dressed in a navy power suit that said professional and not to be messed with. Damien sat beside me, his hand resting on my knee–steady, reassuring. “Are you ready for this?” he murmured. 

“More than ready.” I watched Sophia being led in by her lawyers. She looked smaller somehow, less polished than her usual self. Good. “Are you?” 

“I’ve been ready since the moment I woke up in that hospital.” His jaw was tight. “Let’s 

end this.” 

The prosecution, led by Assistant DA Rebecca Torres, was ruthless and efficient. She laid out the case methodically: the premeditated planning, the drugging, the staged photos, the attempt to destroy Damien’s reputation and our relationship. 

“This was not a crime of passion,” Torres said in her opening statement. “This was calculated assault with the intent to defame and destroy, Ms. Clarke drugged Mr. Blackwood, posed his unconscious body for compromising photographs, and then distributed those photographs to media outlets before Ms. Monroe had even arrived at the hotel. This was premeditated, malicious, and criminal.” 

Sophia’s defense attorney, a slick man named M, tried to paint a different picture. 

“My client made mistakes,” he argued. “She developed feelings for Mr. Blackwood during their brief relationship years ago–feelings she struggled to move past when he called her about a business matter” 

“He didn’t call her,” I whispered to Damien. 

“I know.” His hand tightened on my knee. “That’s already been disproven.” 

“she hoped for reconciliation. Things escalated. Yes, there was alcohol involved. Yes, 

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photographs were taken. But this was a misunderstanding between two adults, not a criminal assault.” 

The prosecution’s first witness was the hotel bartender who’d seen Sophia purchasing drinks before Damien arrived. Then the security guard who’d watched her pace the lobby nervously. Then the hotel manager who’d pulled the security footage. 

Each piece of evidence built the case: This was planned. This was deliberate. This was an assault. 

When Damien took the stand, the courtroom went silent. 

“Mr. Blackwood,” Torres began. “Can you describe your relationship with the defendant?” 

“We had a brief casual encounter several years ago,” Damien said clearly. “One night it ended mutually, or so I thought.” 

“And after that encounter?” 

“Ms. Clarke began contacting me frequently. Calls, texts, showing up at my office unannounced. She believed we had a relationship when we didn’t. Eventually, I had to file a restraining order.” 

A murmur went through the courtroom as Sophia’s face went red. 

“You filed a restraining order against Ms. Clarke?” Torres held up documents. “Can you explain the circumstances?” 

“She was stalking me.” Damien’s voice was steady. “Showing up at my home, at business meetings, at social events. She claimed we were destined to be together, that I just didn’t realize it yet. When she threatened my son” 

Another murmur, louder this time. 

“I filed the restraining order, which she violated multiple times before this incident.” 

“Objection!” M jumped up. “The restraining order was dropped due to lack of evidence” 

“It was dropped because Mr. Blackwood didn’t want to pursue charges at that time,” Torres corrected smoothly. “But the pattern of behavior was documented. Your Honor, I’d like to enter the restraining order and violation reports as evidence.” 

“Allowed,” the judge said. 

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I watched Sophia’s face crumble as each piece of evidence stacked against her. This 

wasn’t just about the hotel–this was about years of obsessive behavior finally catching up to her. 

When it was my turn to testify, I walked to the stand with my head high. 

“Ms. Monroe,” Torres began. “When you received the anonymous text about your fiancé at the Riverside Hotel, what was your first thought?” 

“That was suspicious,” I said clearly. 

“But you went anyway?” 

“Yes. Because even though I suspected a setup, I needed to make sure Damien was safe.” I looked directly at Sophia. “I’m glad I did. Because when I arrived, I found him unconscious and Ms. Clarke staging photographs of his body.” 

“Can you describe what you saw?” 

“Damien was completely unresponsive. Not asleep–unconscious. His pupils were dilated, his breathing shallow. I’ve seen him asleep many times. This wasn’t sleep, this was a medical emergency.” My voice was steady, factual. “Ms. Clarke was in lingerie, posing beside him with her phone, taking photographs. When I entered, she smiled and said the photos were already sent to the press.” 

“She admitted to sending the photos?” 

“Yes. She seemed proud of it. Said it would be front–page news by morning.” I paused. “She also said Damien came willingly, that they’d had drinks together. But his condition made it clear he’d been drugged. So I called 911 immediately.” 

“Why didn’t you assume he’d cheated? Why did you immediately recognize it as 

assault?” 

“Because I know Damien.” I looked at him in the gallery, and he gave me a small nod. “I know how he behaves when he’s had too much to drink. I know his mannerisms, his patterns. What I saw that day wasn’t a man who’d had too much to drink. It was a man who’d been drugged. And Ms. Clarke’s behavior–the staging, the photos, the pride in destroying him–that told me everything I needed to know.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Monroe.” 

M stood for cross–examination. “Ms. Monroe, isn’t it true that you and Mr. Blackwood have a complicated history? That he was unfaithful to you during your first marriage?” 

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“Yes.” I didn’t flinch. 

“So why would you immediately believe him this time? Couldn’t this have been history repeating itself?” 

“No.” My voice was firm. “Because the man who hurt me years ago wouldn’t have been unconscious in a hotel room. He would have been conscious, making choices, actively betraying me. That’s what cheating looks like. What I saw at the hotel was assault. Damien had no choice because he was drugged unconscious. Those are very different 

situations.” 

“But how can you be sure” 

“Because I know the difference between a man making choices and a man being victimized.” I leaned forward slightly. “And because unlike years ago, I now know Damien well enough to recognize when something is completely out of character for him. This was out of character. Therefore, I investigated rather than assumed. That’s called growth, Mr. M.” 

A few people in the gallery actually laughed as the judge banged his gavel for order. 

The trial continued for three more days. Toxicology experts testified about the rohypnol in Damien’s system. Digital forensics showed Sophia had researched “how to use rohypnol” and “how to stage photos” in the weeks before the incident. Phone records showed she’d been in contact with Vivian–though my sister had vanished before she could be subpoenaed. 

The most damning evidence came from Hayes Tech. Lucas took the stand and described Sophia’s pattern of behavior toward him as well. 

“She showed up at my office claiming we’d had a relationship,” Lucas testified. “We hadn’t. She fabricated meetings, claiming I’d made promises I never made. When I rejected her advances, she threatened to ruin my reputation. I documented everything and informed security. Ms. Clarke was permanently banned from Hayes Tech premises.” 

By the time closing arguments came, the verdict seemed inevitable. 

“Members of the jury,” Torres said. “The evidence is overwhelming. Ms. Clarke drugged Mr. Blackwood, staged photographs of his unconscious body, and distributed those photographs with the intent to destroy his reputation and his relationship with Ms. Monroe. This was not a misunderstanding. This was a calculated assault, and the 

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defendant must be held accountable.” 

M tried valiantly to create reasonable doubt, but it was like trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teaspoon.The jury deliberated for less than four hours. “We find the 

defendant guilty on all counts.” 

The courtroom erupted. Sophia’s mother screamed. The media rushed for their phones. And I felt nothing but cold satisfaction. 

Sentencing came two weeks later. Sophia, dressed in an orange jumpsuit instead of designer clothes, stood before the judge. 

“Ms. Clarke, you have been found guilty of assault with a controlled substance, attempted defamation, and conspiracy to commit fraud. These are serious crimes with serious consequences.” The judge’s voice was stern. “You showed premeditation, lack of remorse, and a pattern of predatory behavior. Therefore, I sentence you to seven years in prison, followed by five years probation. You will also be required to register as a convicted offender and attend mandatory counseling.” 

Sophia’s legs buckled but she had to be held up by her lawyers. 

“Furthermore,” the judge continued, “you are to have no contact with Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Monroe, or their child for the duration of your sentence and probation. Violation will result in additional charges. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Your Honor.” Sophia’s voice was barely audible. 

As they led her away, she looked at me one last time. No more smugness. No more pride, just defeat as I felt Damien’s hand slip into mine. 

Outside the courthouse, the media swarmed us.“Ms. Monroe! How do you feel about 

the verdict?” 

“Justice was served,” I said simply. “Ms. Clarke will face consequences for her actions, and that’s exactly as it should be.” 

“Mr. Blackwood, do you feel vindicated?” 

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