On doomsday, my husband Tmaine sued me for divorce, accusing me of being a failed mother and wife. He even demanded all the properties and custody of my daughter. However, inside the courtroom, I heard a shocking sentence. It was the voice of my seven-year-old daughter, Zariah, asking the judge, “Your honor, can I show you something my mommy doesn’t know?” The judge nodded his head.

My daughter stepped forward, raised her tablet, and pressed the play button. When the video started, everyone in the room froze in stunned silence. Before the story begins, please leave us a comment telling us which state or city you are watching from. Do not forget to like and subscribe so this channel can grow and bring you more exciting stories.

That morning began like any other in their home. Nala, dressed in simple clothes, had been toiling in the kitchen since dawn. The faint aroma of a hot breakfast mixed with the scent of detergent from the washing machine spinning in the laundry nook. Niala moved quickly but silently, making almost no noise.

Over the years, she had learned to move like a shadow in her own home, an effort not to disturb the peace of her husband, Tmaine. At 6:00 in the morning, Tmaine came down from the second floor. He looked immaculate. As soon as he appeared in his freshly pressed shirt, Nala immediately placed a mug of hot black coffee and a steaming breakfast plate on the table. “Traine sat down and took the mug without even looking at her.

” “The coffee is a little bitter today,” Tmaine said dryly, his eyes fixed on his cell phone screen. “I’m sorry, honey. I thought I measured it right this time,” Nyala replied in a low voice. Tmaine did not respond. He simply pushed the breakfast away from his plate and ate a few spoonfuls in silence.

Nyala stood near the table, awkwardly waiting for any other order. There were none. The silence between them was so dense and cold that it seemed to freeze the hot steam rising from the coffee on the table. Nyala had forgotten the last time they shared a breakfast filled with laughter.

It was probably 2 or 3 years ago when Tmaine started working late and his business trips became longer. “Is Zariah up?” Tmaine asked without lifting his face. “Yes, honey, she is showering. She will be down for breakfast soon,” Nala said. “Sure enough, shortly after, the small sound of footsteps came down the stairs. Zariah, their seven-year-old daughter, ran toward them in her neat private school uniform.

Her smile was bright, a stark contrast to the atmosphere of the morning. “Good morning, mommy and daddy.” Zariah kissed Nala on the cheek and headed toward Tmaine. He finally put down the phone and forced a slight smile toward his daughter. “Good morning, princess. Finish your food. Daddy will take you to school.

” “Wow, I’m going with daddy,” Zariah exclaimed with joy. Niala exhaled a sigh of relief. At least in front of Zariah, Tmaine made an effort to act with warmth. This brief breakfast hour was the only family time they had.

As soon as Zariah finished eating, Tmaine stood up immediately, grabbed his briefcase, kissed Zariah on the forehead, and headed to the front door. As always, he walked past Nala as if she were not there. Not a goodbye, not a kiss, not even a glance. Only the roar of his luxury car driving away left Nyala alone in the vastness of her large house.

Niala spent the rest of the morning with her routine, clearing the table, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, and tidying the rooms. She did it all with efficiency. She always strove to keep the house perfect. She thought that if the house was clean enough, if the food was delicious enough, if she was quiet enough, maybe the old Tmaine would return. But the old Tmaine seemed to have left a long time ago. At noon, Nala went to pick Zariah up from school.

This was her favorite time of the day. She loved listening to Zariah chatter about her friends, her art class, or her lunchbox. Mommy, today I got five gold stars from the teacher. I answered the question right. Zariah chirped happily, holding her mother’s hand. Wow, my daughter is so smart.

Nyala congratulated sincerely, pinching her little nose. When they arrived home, while Nyala was helping Zariah take off her shoes, she heard the sound of a motorcycle pulling up in front of the main door. A uniformed courier shouted her name, “Nyala, a package for you.” Nyala frowned. She had not ordered anything. She walked to the front door and received a large thick brown envelope.

There was no sender name, only the logo of a law firm in the upper right corner. Nyala’s heart began to beat uncomfortably. “Who is it, Mommy?” asked Sariah, who had followed her. “I don’t know, princess. It’s probably just junk mail. Go change and then we’ll have lunch,” Nala said, trying to keep her voice steady.

After Zariah ran to her room, Nala sat on the sofa in the living room. Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the envelope. Inside was a thick stack of papers. The first sentence on the top page made Nala gasp for air. Petition for dissolution of marriage. Nala’s world seemed to stop. Her ears were ringing.

She reread the words, hoping her eyes had deceived her. Plaintiff Tmaine. Defendant Nyala. Reason for the suit. The wife has totally failed in the fulfillment of her marital duties. Nala felt nauseous, failed. She had dedicated her entire life to this house. She had given up her career at Tmaine’s request. She had taken care of Zariah.

She made sure Tummaine’s shirts were spotless every morning. What did he mean by failed? She continued reading the following chapters. Her eyes went out of focus at the demands Tmaine was presenting. The demands were cruel. Tmaine was not only asking for a divorce, but he was also requesting full custody of Zariah, alleging that Nala was emotionally unstable and incapable of raising the child properly.

And most devastating of all, he demanded the totality of the marital assets, including the house they lived in, with the argument that Nyala had not contributed financially, and that all assets were solely the result of Tmaine’s efforts. Nala collapsed weakly onto the cold hardwood floor.

the papers scattered around her, so that was why Tummaine had been so cold for months. This had been a plan hatched in secret behind her back. The front door opened. Tmaine had returned from work unusually early. He stood in the doorway, looking at Nyala, slumped on the floor and then at the scattered papers. His expression was cold and without a shred of guilt. Honey, what what does this mean? Nala’s voice trembled and tears began to well up.

Tmaine took off his shoes in silence. He walked over, loosening his tie. He did not deny it or explain. He simply said coldly, “It is exactly what you read. I don’t want to live with you anymore, Nala. You have failed. You have failed as a wife and as a mother.” “Failed?” Niala moaned in disbelief.

I have taken care of this house and raised Zariah. Taken care of the house? Tmaine scoffed with disdain. The only thing you have done is spend my money. Zariah needs a better mother, a competent one, not someone who only knows how to cry and complain like you. But all the property, this house, and Zariah, honey, you can’t take them from me. Nala began to scream hysterically.

Tmaine crouched down and looked at her with a sharp look filled with hatred that Nyala had never seen before. I can and I will. My lawyer has all the evidence gathered. You won’t get anything, Nyala. You will leave this house without a single dollar. Tmaine stood up and smoothed his suit. He looked toward the stairs, making sure Zariah couldn’t hear. “And get ready.

” Tmaine grinned a chilling smile that froze Nyala’s blood. My lawyer says that even your own daughter will testify in court about how incompetent you are as a mother. Nala froze in terror and her heart shattered into pieces. Tmaine not only wanted to divorce her, but he wanted to destroy her completely. Nala did not sleep that night.

After the cruel confrontation, Tmaine had retired to the guest room and locked the door as if Nala were a threat. Niala spent the night in her daughter’s room, sitting in the chair by the bed, watching Zariah’s peaceful face as she slept. Her tears did not stop falling. How could Tmaine say that Zariah would testify against her? Zariah was everything to her.

What would they have told her little girl? That thought tormented her more than any other accusation. The next morning, Tmaine acted as if nothing had happened. He woke Zariah up, prepared her uniform, and took her to school. He did not speak a word to Nala. When Zariah asked why her mother had puffy eyes, Tmaine answered with indifference.

“Mommy isn’t feeling very well, Princess.” After they left, true terror took hold of Nyala. She had to fight. She couldn’t give up on Zariah so easily. She grabbed her phone and looked for the names of renowned divorce lawyers in the city. But the harsh reality hit her soon. Lawyers needed money, a retainer, a consultation fee. Niala realized she had no money.

For all these years, Tmaine had only given her a monthly allowance, budgeted exactly for groceries and Zariah’s school expenses. There was no room to save anything. Her only hope was their joint account, the one she believed was their family emergency fund. With trembling hands, Nala opened the banking app on her phone. She entered the password with her heart hammering. When the balance appeared on the screen, Nala felt her legs fail.

Zero. The account was at $0. It couldn’t be. There should be hundreds of thousands of dollars in there. Nala refreshed repeatedly, hoping for a system error. But the number zero stared back at her. She opened the transaction history and her eyes widened with horror. Over the last 6 months, Tmaine had been systematically withdrawing large amounts of money, transferring them to another account Nala didn’t know. The last withdrawal had been made just 3 days ago, emptying the rest of the account. Tmaine had planned this. He

wasn’t just leaving. He had deliberately crippled her financially so she couldn’t fight back. Nyala cried in despair. How was she going to hire a lawyer without a single dollar? She remembered her wedding jewelry. She ran to her room and opened her jewelry box. It was empty. Only a few imitation trinkets remained.

Tmaine had taken even her heirlooms. In her desperation, Nala remembered an old friend who worked at a legal aid agency. She called her and told her the situation between Saabs. Her friend felt pity but couldn’t do much except give her a name. His name is attorney Abernathy, her friend said. He has a small office on the second floor of an old strip mall. He isn’t an expensive lawyer, but he is honest and dedicated.

Go see him. Explain your situation. Maybe he can help you. Nala had no other choice. With the little cash she had left in her purse, she hailed a cab and went to the address her friend gave her. Attorney Abernathy’s office was exactly as her friend had described, small, modest, and located on the second floor of an old building with peeling paint.

Attorney Abernathy was a middle-aged black man with thick glasses and a calm demeanor. He listened patiently to Nyala’s story without interrupting, only nodding occasionally and taking notes. When Nala finished, attorney Abernathy exhaled a long sigh. Niala, this is going to be an uphill battle, he said in a low voice. Your husband has prepared all of this very thoroughly.

He doesn’t just want a divorce. He wants to destroy you. I know, attorney, but I don’t care about the properties. I just want Zariah. Please help me. I don’t have money now, but I will pay you. I will pay you in installments. I will do anything. Nyala pleaded desperately. Attorney Abernathy looked at her for a moment. Let’s leave the money issue for later, Naala. What is important now is that we have to move fast.

This lawsuit has already been filed. We have to prepare a response immediately. Attorney Abernathy asked Nala to wait. He left the room and returned a few minutes later with a folder full of photocopies. They were the lawsuit documents filed by Tmaine’s side. Your husband’s lawyer is attorney Cromwell. He is known for being sharp and not hesitating to use dirty tactics.

Attorney Abernathy said firmly, “Let’s see what evidence they have presented.” Nola nodded. Her heart was beating hard. Attorney Abernay opened the folder. The first page was photographs. Niala went into shock seeing photos of the interior of her house. Photos of dirty dishes piled in the kitchen, photos of the living room cluttered with toys, photos of dirty clothes piled in the laundry basket.

But this is unfair, Nyala protested. These are photos he took when I was sick. I had a high fever for 3 days, and Tmaine didn’t want to help at all. He took them on purpose. Niala, I’m afraid this is manipulated to make it look like you are a lazy person who doesn’t maintain the house. Attorney Abernathy said with a bitter expression. They turned to the following pages.

They were credit card statements. Nala saw a list of charges for luxury handbags, jewelry, and dinners at expensive restaurants she had never bought. That’s not me. I didn’t buy these things. Was it an additional card in your name? asked attorney Abernathy. Yes, an additional one. Tmaine managed it. He told me to use it if I needed to, but he took it often, saying his main card had exceeded the limit.

Oh my god, he set me up. Nala felt the world spinning. She realized that every small kindness from Tmaine was actually part of his evil plan. And then attorney Abernathy stopped at a thick document toward the end. And this is the most damaging thing, Nyala. What is it, attorney? It is the testimony of an expert witness, a child psychologist.

Attorney Abernathy handed the report to Nyala. She read it. The report was written in cold clinical terms. It said that the psychologist had conducted covert observations of Nyala’s interactions with Zarya. The conclusion was that Niala was emotionally unstable, neglected her daughter’s needs, and was a detrimental mother to Zariah’s psychological development.

The report recommended full custody for Tmaine for the mental health of the child. This makes no sense. When when was this observation done? I never met a psychologist. Nyala’s voice shook violently. According to this report, the observation was conducted in public places at the park, at the mall, and when you picked up your daughter from school.

Attorney Abernathy explained, staring at her. That’s crazy. Zariah always seemed happy with me. This is defamation. Who is this psychologist? Attorney Abernathy flipped the cover of the report. Her name is Valencia, a lady named Dr. Valencia. He said, “Here are all her credentials. She seems very professional and convincing.” Attorney Abernathy looked at Nyala seriously.

“Nala, do you know this woman, Valencia?” Nyala shook her head, bewildered. Her tears began to fall again. “No, attorney, I don’t know her. I have never seen her in my life. The reality of living under the same roof with the man who planned to destroy her was a silent hell.” Tmaine had not left the house.

He had simply moved into the guest room. The once warm house now felt like a frozen battlefield. With emotional landmines hidden in every corner, Nala had to live with her enemy, see him every morning, and pretend everything was normal in front of Zariah. Tmaine executed his strategy perfectly in front of the child. He was the best father in the world. He used to come back from work earlier than usual, something he hadn’t done in months.

He brought expensive gifts. One night, he came back with a big box featuring a cartoon princess. “This is your new tablet, Zariah,” Tmaine exclaimed, hugging the girl. “This is much better than the old one. It has a better camera, and Daddy installed lots of games for you.” Zariah’s eyes shown. “Wow, thanks, Daddy.

” Nyala, who was folding laundry in the living room, could only swallow hard. Her heart achd. She knew what Tmaine was doing. He was buying their daughter’s loyalty. Nyala couldn’t compete. She didn’t have a dollar to buy Zariah anything. You see, Princess said Tmaine, looking at Nala with a sneer while turning on the new tablet.

When you live with Daddy later, you’ll be able to buy a new toy every week, unlike someone who only knows how to fold clothes. Nala stopped the movement of her hands. She had a nod in her chest. She wanted to scream. She wanted to insult Tmaine, but she couldn’t in front of Zariah.

If she got angry, it would only prove Tmaine’s accusation that she was emotionally unstable. So, neiologist continued folding the clothes in silence, head bowed, letting Tmaine’s poison fill the room. The terror continued daily. Tmaine systematically undermined Nyala’s authority as a mother. If Nala prepared dinner, Tmaine came into the kitchen, tasted the food, and said in front of Zariah, “Honey, the soup is a little salty again.” “It’s okay. Tomorrow, we’ll order takeout.

” If Nala got ready to help Zariah with her homework, Tmaine interrupted her. “Let me do it. The way mommy teaches you is too complicated. You’re going to get confused.” Nala felt smaller and smaller, more and more invisible in her own home. She began to doubt herself. Did she really cook badly? Was she really incapable of teaching her daughter? Tmaine played his role too well, making Nala seem like an inept woman.

Zariah, trapped in the middle, began to show signs of confusion. It was clear she loved her mother, but she also enjoyed all the attention and gifts from her father. Sometimes Zariah clung to Nala as if seeking protection, but other times she seemed uncomfortable, especially after Tummaine whispered something to her. One night, Nyala couldn’t sleep. She walked silently to Zariah’s room to make sure her daughter was okay.

She opened the door slightly. Zariah was sleeping deeply. On her desk was the new tablet Tmaine had bought her. But as Nala got closer to tuck Zariah in, she saw something strange. Zariah’s small hand was clutching something under the pillow. It wasn’t her favorite teddy bear. Nyala looked very carefully. Her heart skipped a beat.

It was Zariah’s old tablet, the cheap one with the screen cracked in several places, the one Nala always told her not to play with for fear the pieces of glass might hurt her. Nyala frowned. Why did Zariah still keep this broken tablet? Why hide it under the pillow when the newer tablet was on the desk? Nyala didn’t understand. She thought it was just a child’s emotional attachment to an old toy.

She didn’t know that broken tablet held a secret that was going to change everything. She returned to her room. Her mind was even more confused. The climax happened a few days later. Nala was waiting for Zariah to return from school. She had promised Zariah she would bake her favorite chocolate cake, but an hour passed after dismissal time and Zariah didn’t arrive.

Nala called the school. They told her Zariah had been picked up by Tmaine. Nala’s heart sank. Tmaine hadn’t told her anything. She called Tmaine several times, but he didn’t answer. Two hours passed. 3 hours passed. Niala was almost crazy with worry, pacing back and forth in the living room with tears in her eyes.

It wasn’t until 9 at night that she heard Tmaine’s car. Zarya entered laughing, carrying a large bag full of things from an amusement park. Behind her, Tmaine walked calmly with a smirk. Where have you been, honey? Why did you take Zariah without telling me? I was dying of worry. Nala shouted with a voice containing tears and rage.

Daddy took me to Wonderland Park, Mommy. It was so much fun. Zariah exclaimed happily. Tmaine looked at Nyala coldly. So what? I’m her father. I have the right to take my own daughter. Besides, you aren’t doing anything at home. But you should have told me. Why? So you could ruin our fun with your drama. It was then that Nyala smelled it.

It was a woman’s perfume, a soft but unfamiliar scent permeating Tmaine’s shirt. It wasn’t Nala’s perfume, nor was it the cologne Tmaine usually wore. Honey, you Tmaine followed the direction of Nala’s gaze. He knew she had smelled it. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled. He waited for Zariah to run to her room to put away her new toys. Alone, Tmaine approached Niella. His face was very close and his voice hissed low, full of venom.

Did you notice? Did you really think I was going to live forever with a woman as boring as you? You are nothing compared to her. Nala took a step back, gasping for air. There was another woman. All of this, all the accusations were nothing more than an attempt to get rid of her to be with the other one. Who is she? Nyala whispered.

None of your business. She is a successful, intelligent woman who knows how to please a man unlike you. That night, Zariah came to Nala’s room. Mommy, why are you crying? Nala wiped her tears immediately. I’m okay, princess. My head just hurts a little. Zariah looked at her mother with a look hard to decipher. Are you really sick, Mommy? Daddy says that since you are sick, you are often sad and angry.

Daddy said that if I go live with him later, mommy will be able to rest and get better. Nala’s heart shattered. Tmaine had been injecting poison into her little daughter’s mind. He had manipulated Zariah into believing it was an act of kindness to leave her side because her mother was sick. Nyala hugged Zariah tight. Zariah, listen to me. I am not sick.

I just love you so much. I promise I won’t get angry anymore. But the damage was already done. Nala saw hesitation in her daughter’s eyes. Tmaine, who was listening to the conversation from the doorway, only sneered in the darkness. He walked past Nyala, who was still stunned, and gave a little tap on his wife’s shoulder, figning sympathy.

“Enjoy your time!” Tmaine mocked in a low voice in Nyala’s ear. Soon she won’t even want to call you mom. The mediation hearing was a cruel joke. They were seated in a small stuffy room. The courtappointed mediator tried to find middle ground. Attorney Abernathy began with a calm voice. Tmaine Nyala doesn’t ask for much. She only wants custody of Zariah or at least shared custody.

Regarding property, we can talk about it. Before attorney Abernathy could finish, attorney Cromwell, well-dressed and expensive, interrupted him quickly. There is nothing to talk about, attorney Cromwell said harshly. He slammed the file he had in his hands onto the table. Our client’s position is clear. Niala is the failed party in this marriage.

It has been proven that she has failed in maintaining the home and raising the child. Our client demands full custody for Zariah’s future. Tmaine sat beside him with a blank face as if he were the victim. “I only want the best for my daughter,” he said with a tone of fake sadness. “Taking her mother away is the best for her.” Nala trembled. Attorney Cromwell chuckled.

“Nala, if you keep insisting, we will take this to trial. And I assure you that all the evidence we have will humiliate you. The photos, the credit card statements, the expert testimony. You had better sign this agreement. Our client is being benevolent by allowing you to leave the house without any countersuit. Leave my house with nothing and without Zariah.

Are you crazy? Niala screamed. The mediator tried to intervene, but Tmaine and his lawyer were inflexible. The mediation broke down completely. Attorney Abernathy patted Nyala on the shoulder as they left. Stay strong, Nyala. The real fight begins now. The first day of trial approached. Nyala had a knot in her stomach since morning.

Attorney Abernay reminded her to keep calm at all costs. The courtroom was cold and intimidating with high wooden walls, heavy chairs, and the judge’s gavl looking very authoritative. Tmaine was sitting on the opposite side, looking very confident with attorney Cromwell. The trial began. Attorney Cromwell was first. He spoke fluently and his voice was loud and sure.

He presented his version of the facts. He showed the photos of the messy house accusing Nyala of being a lazy and dirty housewife. He showed the credit card statements accusing Nala of being wasteful and financially irresponsible. Your honor, Attorney Cromwell said dramatically.

While my client Tmaine worked hard to earn money, his wife was at home wasting it and neglecting her daughter and her home. Niila wanted to scream that it was all a lie, that Tmaine had set her up, that he had used the card, that he had taken the photos on purpose when she was sick. But the only thing she could do was clasp her hands under the table. Attorney Abernathy stopped her with a reassuring look. When it was attorney Abernathy’s turn, he tried to refute.

He explained that the photos were taken out of context. He explained that the credit card statements had been used by Tmaine himself, but his arguments sounded weak. It was Nyala’s word against the physical evidence presented by attorney Cromwell. The judge took notes, but his expression was unreadable. And then came the moment Nyala feared most.

The plaintiff calls his expert witness. Attorney Cromwell said, “Dr. Valencia, child psychologist.” The courtroom door opened. A woman entered. Nala held her breath. The woman was beautiful, very elegant. She had her hair pulled back neatly, wore a professional blazer, and walked with a confident stride. She didn’t look like an evil woman at all. She looked convincing.

As the woman took her oath, Nala smelled the same perfume, the same fragrance that permeated Tmaine’s shirt that night. Nala’s heart stopped. It was her, Tmaine’s mistress, and she was posing as a child psychologist. Valencia sat in the witness box. She spoke calmly, her diction clear, using psychological terms that sounded very professional and impressive.

“Yes, your honor,” Valencia began to testify, answering Attorney Cromwell’s question. “I conducted observations of the natural behavior of Mrs. Nyala and her daughter Zariah over the last three months.” “And what were your findings, doctor?” asked attorney Cromwell. Valencia opened her notes. My findings were very concerning. I found a pattern of behavior in Mrs.

Nyala that tends to be inconsistent and emotionally volatile. There are signs of significant emotional distress. Valencia began to detail the lies one by one, turning facts into deadly weapons. First observation. At a shopping mall, Mrs. Snala pulled Zariah forcefully speaking to her loudly which made Zariah cry in fear in front of people.

This shows a low capacity for emotional regulation. Nala closed her eyes. She remembered that day. Zariah had almost thrown herself toward the wrong escalator and Nala had shouted and pulled Zariah back in shock. Zariah, be careful. She wasn’t angry. She was terrified that Zariah would get hurt. But Valencia had turned it into verbal abuse.

Second observation, in a park, Valencia continued. Mrs. Nyla seemed to be more absorbed in her phone, ignoring Zariah, who was playing alone. When Zariah fell, Mrs. Nyla didn’t notice immediately. When she did, her reaction was exaggerated and tended toward hysteria, which further traumatized Zariah about the fall. Another lie.

Nala remembered she was texting about the grocery list Tmaine had asked for. Zariah tripped and Niila got genuinely scared. She ran immediately, hugged, and consoled Zariah. Her reaction was that of a concerned mother, not a hysterical one. My conclusion, said Valencia, staring at the judge with a steady voice, is that Mrs. Nyala does not have the stable emotional capacity to raise a seven-year-old girl.

There are strong signs of parentification syndrome where Mrs. Nyala subconsciously projects her own unhappiness and emotional problems onto the child. For Zariah’s mental health, I strongly recommend full custody for the father, Mr. Tmaine, who is the more stable figure. The room fell silent. Valencia’s testimony was very powerful, very scientific, very destructive.

Nyala cried silently. It’s a lie,” she whispered to attorney Abernathy. “It’s all a lie. She is Tmaine’s mistress. It’s her.” “Calm down, Nyala,” Attorney Abernathy replied tensely. “Don’t react. That’s what they want.” Attorney Abernathy stood up for cross-examination. He tried. “Dr.

Valencia, are you sure you can make such a serious diagnosis based solely on distance observations?” Valencia smiled slightly. On the contrary, counselor, natural observations without the subject being aware are the most accurate. There is no manipulation. It is pure real behavior. You were paid by Mr. Tmaine for this testimony.

Isn’t that right? I was paid for my professional services, counselor, not for my conclusions. My conclusions are objective and based on data from the field. Valencia retorted cleverly. Attorney Abernathy was at a dead end. Valencia had dodged too well. She had covered all the holes. The trial adjourned for the day. Niala left the room with her legs shaking. She felt destroyed.

She saw Tmaine smiling slightly, nodding to Valencia with a look of satisfaction. In the lobby, Nala leaned against the wall and sobbed. “We lost, attorney. We lost. They have everything.” Attorney Abernathy remained silent for a moment. Then he stared at Tmaine and Valencia who were walking together in the distance, discreetly separated but not entirely far apart.

Not yet, Niila, Attorney Abernathy said in a low voice, eyes narrowed. I know something is wrong. The way she looks at him when she thinks no one sees her is not the way a professional psychologist looks at a client. Attorney Abernathy turned to Nyala. We have to find out who she really is. A few days before the next hearing, attorney Abernathy called Niala to his office. His face looked tired.

The stack of papers on the desk looked thicker than before. Niala, I tried to trace the woman’s background. Attorney Abernathy was blunt. The result is different from what we expected. Nala’s heart raced. What do you mean, attorney? Her credentials are clean. Too clean, sighed attorney Abernathy, rubbing the bridge of his nose. She is registered with the psychological association.

She has a registered practice clinic. All the documentation is perfect. Either she is a real psychologist that Tmaine hired to lie for money or Tmaine forged this entire identity very cleanly. The truth is we cannot attack her by accusing her of being a fake psychologist. The court would dismiss our claim immediately.

The brief hope Nala had held vanished instantly. So, we can’t prove she’s lying. No, we simply can’t prove she isn’t a psychologist. The only way is to refute her testimony. And that means you have to testify. Nala. Attorney Abernathy looked at Nyala. Seriously. You have to tell your whole side of the story about the photos, about the credit cards, about Tmaine’s behavior, and most importantly, you must not get emotionally upset. Attorney Cromwell will definitely try to provoke you.

He will want you to look hysterical in front of the judge, exactly as Valencia described you.” Nyala nodded silently. “I will do it, attorney. I will try.” The day arrived. It was Nyala’s turn to sit on the witness stand.

After being sworn in, attorney Abernathy began with gentle questions, guiding Nyala to tell of her life as a housewife. Nyala explained in a voice attempting to remain as calm as possible. She spoke of how she left her job to focus on caring for Zariah, explained her routine from dawn until late at night. About the photos of the messy house, Nyala, can you explain the context? asked attorney Abernay.

Yes, attorney. Those photos were taken by Tmaine about two months ago. I was severely ill with a high fever for three days. At that time, I could barely get out of bed. I asked Tmaine to take care of the household, but he said he was too busy with work, so the house got very messy.

I didn’t have the energy to clean, Nala explained. And about the credit card statements, it was an additional card in my name, but Tmaine had it more frequently. He said his main card often reached the limit with business matters. I believed him. I never bought those luxury bags nor that jewelry. I didn’t know about those charges until I saw them in the lawsuit documents.

Niala said everything with honesty. She saw some in the gallery begin to whisper. Some looked at her with sympathy, but the judge remained silent. His face was unreadable. Then came attorney Cromwell’s turn. The cunning lawyer stood up, smoothed his tie, and walked toward the witness stand with a sneer. “Nyala,” he began in a sickly sweet tone. “So, you mean to say that your husband, Mr.

Tmaine, who works hard and brings money home, set you up on purpose?” “Is that it?” Nella stammered. “I didn’t say that. I just said what happened.” But that sounds The husband takes photos of the dirty house. The husband uses the credit card. Everything is the husband’s fault. It seems that you are not to blame for anything. Are you perfect? Of course not.

I’m not perfect, but I’m not a failure. Not a failure? Attorney Cromwell scoffed with disdain. Naala, you said you were sick when those photos were taken. Do you have any medical report proving you were gravely ill for 3 days? Nala remained silent. I didn’t go to the hospital. I just took medicine from the pharmacy. I thought I would recover. So, there is no proof.

Attorney Cromwell attacked quickly. It’s just your word against real photographic evidence. Interesting. Attorney Cromwell moved to another topic about the credit cards. You say your husband used them, but the card is in your name. Did you ever inform the bank that the card was being misused? No.

Did you ever reprimand your husband? No. You said nothing. Doesn’t this prove you are negligent and financially irresponsible? Or does it mean you approved all the purchases? I trusted him. He was my husband. Nyalla’s voice rose. Blind trust, snapped attorney Cromwell. A trust that ruined the family finances, and now you blame your husband. I am not blaming. Enough.

Attorney Cromwell raised his hand, returned to his table, and picked up a large printed photo. He held it up for the judge and everyone to see. “Your honor, I request permission to present exhibit P12.” Nyala’s eyes widened with horror. It was a photo of her, her in her bedroom a few weeks before the divorce papers arrived, hair disheveled, crying and screaming. “Mrs.

Nyla, can you explain this photo? asked Attorney Cromwell with a triumphant tone. Nala trembled violently. Tears began to well up again. Isn’t this real proof of what Dr. Valencia said? Volatile emotions, hysteria. Is this the face of a competent mother? You don’t understand. Nala wailed. Her tears were now pouring down.

That night, that night, Tmaine had just come home. He He called me a useless wife. He said I was a burden. He insulted me. He said I didn’t deserve to be Zariah’s mother. He provoked me. So you admit it. Attorney Cromwell attacked without giving her a breath. You admit you screamed hysterically. You admit you lost control. You are emotionally volatile. Exactly as Dr.

Valencia described, right? No, shouted Nala. She stood up from her chair. He set me up. He took the photo of me in secret after hurting me. He is a devil. He is enough. The judge’s gavel struck hard. Witness, calm down. Sit down. Nyala sobbed. Her shoulders shook. She slumped back into her chair. Destroyed.

Everything destroyed. She had behaved exactly as Tmaine and attorney Cromwell wanted. She looked hysterical. She looked unstable. She looked the image of the failed mother they had fabricated. She looked toward Tmaine’s side. The man had his head bowed, making a fake grimace of sadness, as if he were hurt by his wife’s instability. Attorney Cromwell smiled smugly. The judge shook his head slowly.

His expression was clear. He had already taken a side. That day’s trial ended with total destruction for Nyalla’s side. Attorney Abernathy tried to console her as they left, but Niella felt numb. It’s over, attorney, she whispered weakly. That night was the longest of her life. The sentencing hearing was going to be the next day.

Niala knew she was going to lose. She was going to lose Zariah. She went into Zariah’s room. Her daughter was already asleep. Tmaine was not home, probably celebrating his victory with Valencia in advance. Nala sat at the foot of the bed, stroking her daughter’s hair. Her tears fell silently onto Zariah’s cheek, and the girl stirred a little. “Mommy!” Zariah opened her eyes, half asleep.

“Sh, go back to sleep, princess,” whispered Nala, her voice from crying. She hugged her daughter tight. Maybe the last hug as a full mother. I want you to know whatever happens tomorrow, Mommy loves you very much. Always. Sensing her mother’s sadness, Zariah hugged her back tightly. I love you too, Mommy. Nala undid the hug slowly. It was then she saw it again.

The corner of the old cracked tablet was sticking out from under Zariah’s pillow. Zariah was clutching it tightly, even while sleeping. Niala couldn’t understand why Zariah was so obsessed with that broken object, but that night she was too destroyed to think deeper about it. She simply kissed her daughter on the forehead and left to face the end of her world.

The courtroom was colder than usual. The morning air was heavy and suffocating. Nyala sat rigidly in her chair, eyes puffy and empty. She hadn’t slept all night. Beside her, attorney Abernathy stared ahead with a somber expression. He knew he had done everything possible, but like Nyala, they faced a giant wall. The atmosphere on the opposite side of the room was very different.

Tmaine looked fresh and confident in a new suit. He smiled occasionally and exchanged quiet jokes with Attorney Cromwell. Victory was before his eyes. In the gallery, Nala saw Valencia. The woman was seated elegantly, dressed in a cream colored dress, looking at Nala with a barely visible smile, the smile of the victor. The judge entered. The room fell silent instantly.

Nala’s heart beat so hard it hurt. In the matter of the divorce petition, registry number, family court case number, the judge began formally. Today’s subject is the reading of the verdict. But before that, he requested both parties present their closing arguments. Attorney Cromwell stood up first.

He summarized his victory skillfully. Your honor, he said loudly. During this trial, we have seen irrefutable evidence, the photographic proof showing Mrs. Nyala’s neglect of household tasks, the financial proof showing her irresponsibility, and most importantly, the testimony of the eminent child psychologist, Dr. Valencia, who objectively and scientifically presented the defendant’s emotional instability.

Attorney Cromwell pointed to Nala. We even witnessed Mrs. Nyala’s hysterical conduct in this courtroom during the last trial, which supports Dr. Valencia’s diagnosis and is clearly recorded. He turned toward Tummaine. On the other hand, we have Mr. Tmaine, a capable father, financially successful, and above all, emotionally stable, and genuinely concerned for his daughter’s future.

Your honor, the choice here is very clear. It is not about punishing the wife, but about saving the child. For Zariah’s best interest, I beg you to grant full custody to our client, Mr. Tmaine, and approve his request for division of assets. Attorney Cromwell sat down with a smug smile. Now it was attorney Abernathi’s turn. He stood up slowly, looked around the room without looking at the judge.

Your honor, began Attorney Abernathy with a soft but firm voice. What we have witnessed here is not proof. It is character assassination. A very wellplanned defamation. Photos can lie. One can take a photo of the best chef’s kitchen in the world at the wrong moment and make it look dirty. statements can be manipulated, especially when one party has total financial control and the trust of the other.

And the expert testimony, the testimony of an expert who only observed from a distance and drew radical conclusions from a few fragments of incidents out of context is stronger than the deep maternal love a mother has accumulated over seven years. Attorney Abernathy looked directly at Tmaine. Your honor, we are not saving a girl.

We are witnessing a greedy husband try to get rid of his wife, steal her assets, and cruy take away the only thing that is most precious to her, her daughter. Nala is a good mother.” His voice trembled slightly with emotion. She is not perfect. No mother is, but she has dedicated her life to Zariah. Do not allow this well-woven defamation to destroy that bond. I beg you to judge with conscience. Attorney Abernathy sat down. The room was silent.

His argument had been excellent, emotional, but Nyala knew it wasn’t enough. Attorney Abernathy’s argument was based on belief. Attorney Cromwell’s argument was based on physical evidence and expert testimony. In the eyes of the law, the winner was already obvious. The judge cleared his throat, put on his glasses, and opened the thick file in front of him.

This was the moment. Having reviewed all documents from both parties, heard all testimonies, and considered all evidence presented, the judge began with an expressionless tone. Her heart shrank. The court notes that the plaintiff, Mr. Tmaine, has been successful in presenting significant evidence. The judge continued. Nala lowered her head and closed her eyes.

First, the visual evidence, that is, the photographs demonstrated the negligence of the defendant. Mrs. Nyella in household management. Second, the financial evidence demonstrated a considerable spending imbalance on the credit card in the defendant’s name. Every sentence was a knife cut. And most damaging, said the judge, his voice sounding definitive is the testimony of the expert witness, Dr. Valencia, regarding Mrs. Nyala’s emotional state.

This testimony was unfortunately reinforced by the defendant’s own conduct in the last trial, providing the court with a very troubling image of the psychological environment for the child’s growth. Nala began to cry silently. It was over. Tmaine looked at Nala and a slight cruel smile of victory appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Valencia behind him sat up straighter in her seat, ready to applaud. with all considerations mentioned above and especially for the best interest and mental health of the minor Zariah. The judge raised his gavvel and Nyala closed her eyes, ready to hear the sentence that would destroy her life. The court rules stop.

The voice was small, but it cut through the silence of the courtroom. It was sharp and clear. Everyone turned their heads in unison toward the source of the voice. In the slightly open door at the back of the room stood Zariah. She was alone, still in her school uniform. Obviously, she had snuck in.

Tmaine’s face went from arrogance to shock and pour. Zariah, what are you doing here? Get out of here, he shouted in panic. Guard Zariah. Sit down, princess. Tmaine tried again with a tense voice, but Zariah didn’t move. She walked into the courtroom. The sound of her small steps echoed on the marble floor.

She didn’t look at her mother, who was astonished with her mouth open. She didn’t look at her father, who was furious. She looked directly at the judge. The room, which had been silent awaiting the sentence, was now frozen. The gavl, which was about to fall, stopped in midair. The judge’s eyes widened, looking at the little girl in the doorway.

Nala turned around, feeling her heart fall out of her chest. “Zariah,” she whispered in disbelief. What was her daughter doing here? Who had brought her? Tmaine’s reaction was the fastest. His face, a moment before full of arrogance and triumph, was now pale and bloodless. There was pure terror in his eyes. “Zariah,” he yelled. His voice rose without the disguise of calm.

“What are you doing here? Get out of here. This isn’t a playground. Guard, how can a child enter?” Zariah shrank at her father’s scream, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she walked deeper into the room. “Zariah, daddy said, “Turn around and sit down.” Tmaine shouted again, now half-standing. His lawyer, attorney Cromwell, was also bewildered. He stood up and shouted at the judge.

“Your honor, this is a procedural outrage. This trial is confidential. A minor should not be here and should not interrupt the proceeding. Order your staff to remove the child.” Nala was still frozen. She was confused. A part of her mind was shattering over the fact that Zariah was in this horrible place. The other part trembled with fear.

What was Zariah going to say? Had Tmaine succeeded in poisoning her completely? Would Zariah tell the judge she preferred her father? The thought made Nala nauseous. Your honor, out of consideration. Attorney Abernathi’s voice rang out suddenly, stopping Attorney Cromwell. This child has come with an obvious purpose. This is about her future. We cannot ignore her.

The judge raised his hand. His face was grave. Silence everyone. His voice echoed. He stared at Tmaine and attorney Cromwell, silencing their protests. Then his gaze turned to Zariah, his expression softened. Zariah approached slowly, her small steps echoing loudly on the silent marble. She stopped in the center between the tables of the two lawyers.

She looked directly at the judge sitting on his high throne. “Your honor,” Zariah said with a trembling voice, but clear to the whole room. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” “It’s okay, princess,” said the judge with a more paternal tone. “Why are you here? Who brought you?” “I came alone. My auntie brought me, but I snuck in. I heard my daddy say my mommy is bad.” Tmaine’s eyes went wide.

Zariah, watch your words. Silence, Mr. Tmaine, shouted the judge. Let the child speak. Niila covered her mouth. Tears began to flow. Zariah swallowed as if gathering courage. She looked at the judge again. Her pure, clear eyes showed sincerity. Daddy said my mommy is bad. Daddy said my mommy gets very angry. Daddy said my mommy can’t take care of me. She continued, her voice shaking slightly.

Nala closed her eyes. This was the end. Zariah was going to repeat all of Tmaine’s lies, but a sentence made Nala open her eyes. But can I show you something? Zariah looked at the judge with pleading eyes. Something my mommy doesn’t know. That phrase hung in the air. Something my mommy doesn’t know. Nala frowned. What did she mean? Attorney Cromwell jumped up again. Your honor, this is absurd.

A recording from a child cannot be used as evidence. This is an invasion of privacy recorded without permission. That recording proves the lies of your expert witness, attorney Cromwell, retorted Attorney Abernathy sharply. This is very intriguing. Enough arguing. The judge banged his gavvel, his eyes, previously paternal, now shone intensely. He sensed there was a big lie.

Clerk, help this child. Connect that device to the court monitors right now. No, Tmaine screamed desperately. He gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles. I object, your honor. This is a setup. Your objection is noted, Mr. Tmaine. Now sit down, ordered the judge.

A clerk approached Zariah quickly and carefully took the cracked tablet. He looked for a cable and moments later the large monitor screens on the courtroom wall went black and then showed Zariah’s tablet home screen. Tmaine covered his face. Valencia behind him seemed to shake violently. Zariah now standing next to the clerk looked at the screen. She didn’t look at Nala or Tmaine.

She was focused on her mission. This one. She pointed to a video file in the gallery. The clerk clicked on it. A video thumbnail appeared. “Go ahead, princess,” said the judge. “Play the video.” Zariah stretched out her small index finger. She pressed the play button on the screen. The video started. The large monitor screen flickered.

The shot was slightly shaky and tilted. The angle was low, as if recorded from behind something. A quiet laugh was heard. It’s our living room,” whispered Nyala, recognizing the sofa and the large plant pot in the corner of the room. The video seemed to have been taken from behind that pot where Zariah often hid while playing hideand seek.

And then two figures entered the recorded shot. Tmaine and Valencia. Not Valencia in the professional blazer like in court, but Valencia in fine, comfortable loungewear. Her hair was down. Tmaine entered laughing and immediately hugged Valencia from behind, kissing her on the neck. Oh my god. A muffled exclamation was heard throughout the room in unison. Niella froze with her breath caught in her throat.

So the perfume, her suspicions, everything was true. The woman who gave false testimony to ruin her was the same one sleeping with her husband in her house. On the other side, attorney Cromwell stared at the monitor with his mouth open. He turned to Tmaine with a look of horror, as if saying, “You never told me this.

” In the gallery, Valencia lowered her head, trying to hide her face. And then the voices of the figures in the video were heard clearly in the silence of the courtroom. Valencia’s voice. “Are you sure your plan will work? Your wife is so stupid.” Tmaine’s voice, laughing with certainty. Stupid and submissive. She won’t suspect anything. All the money has already been transferred to your account, baby.

Are you sure? Nala felt her legs fail. Her money, her joint account, had been transferred to Valencia’s account. Oh, God. Attorney Abernathy murmured beside her, his eyes fixed on the screen. The video continued. Tmaine sat on the sofa and pulled Valencia onto his lap. Tmaine’s voice.

Once the verdict comes out tomorrow, I will officially get custody of Zariah. We will sell this house from hell immediately and move to Switzerland, far away from her. Valencia’s voice, Coetish. And Zariah seems very attached to her mother. This was the part that hurt Nyala the most. She held her breath, waiting for Tmaine’s answer. Tmaine’s voice, disdainful.

Oh, the kid is easy to handle. Just give her a new tablet and she’ll forget her mother. You will be her new mother, a smarter, more successful, and much sexier mother. Tmaine kissed Valencia passionately in the video. “Enough! Turn it off!” Tmaine screamed in rage. He jumped from his chair, trying to run toward the clerk’s table to stop the video.

“Officers, restrain him!” shouted the judge with anger. The two security guards guarding the door moved immediately. They overpowered Tmaine before he could advance, bending his arms behind his back. Tmaine twisted like an animal in a trap. Let me go. It’s not true. It’s manipulated. Tmaine screamed desperately.

Silence him, ordered the judge. Continue the video. I want to see it to the end. The video continued playing, oblivious to the chaos in the room. Now it was Valencia’s turn to speak. Valencia’s voice. I’m still a little worried. What about my testimony as a psychologist? What if Nala’s lawyer refutes it with his observations? Tmaine’s voice laughing again. I already prepared. I recorded her last week when she cried hysterically.

Remember, I will provoke her again at the trial. I will insult her until she explodes. She will scream and cry in front of the judge. Niella sobbed. She remembered her testimony, the photo, her screams. He set her up. Tmaine’s voice. Once she gets hysterical, your testimony will seem perfect.

The judge will see for himself that she is an unstable, crazy woman. No one will believe her. They will believe Dr. Valencia, the professional. The video finally showed Tmaine and Valencia toasting with wine glasses, laughing. The video ended. The screen went black. The room remained silent for a few seconds. The only thing heard was Naala’s sobbing and Tmaine’s panting breath under the guard’s control.

Everyone in the room, the judge, the clerks, the gallery, and even attorney Cromwell, stared at the black screen with horror. They had just witnessed a very well-planned evil conspiracy. Fraud, perjury, money laundering, and manipulation of the court. In the gallery, some people began to turn their heads looking for Valencia. “There she is. It’s the woman,” someone shouted. Valencia realized she was completely exposed.

In panic, she jumped from her seat and ran toward the back exit. Zariah, the little heroine who had been watching the video that just played, turned her head. She didn’t look at Tmaine, who was subdued. She looked at her mother. Her pure eyes met Nyala’s, which were filled with tears.

The judge, face red with rage, raised his gavvel high. He didn’t drop it in silence. He banged it hard on the desk. Silence everyone. The court resumes. Officers, close all exits. No one leaves. Arrest that woman, Dr. Valencia. Immediately, the room fell into controlled chaos.

The bang of the furious judge’s gavel was both an order and a release of the tension that had frozen everyone. The two security guards who had just subdued Tmaine now dragged him to a chair. Tmaine wasn’t screaming anymore. He was simply gasping. His eyes were frantic and his expensive suit was soaked in sweat. He knew it was over. At the back door, another commotion occurred.

Valencia in panic couldn’t open the large door the judge had just ordered closed. She pulled the handle and pushed in vain. A female officer intercepted her quickly. Valencia collapsed on the floor. Her professional mask had completely fallen. She was no longer the calm and convincing psychologist. She was just a scared woman crying hysterically. Exactly the image she had used in the photos to frame Nala. Karma had arrived too fast and with cruelty.

“Bring her here,” ordered the judge with a cold and unforgiving voice. The officers dragged the sobbing Valencia to the front and sat her in the witness stand, which now felt like the defendant’s bench. Across the room, Tmaine’s lawyer, Attorney Cromwell, looked like a melting wax doll.

His face was pale, and his tie was crooked. He no longer looked at the judge. He looked at the stack of papers piled in front of him without an answer. His career and reputation had been destroyed in an instant by a video from a child’s broken tablet. He knew he was implicated.

He might not have known about the affair, but he knew about the manipulated photo evidence and the testimony prepared to frame Nyala. Nyala herself was still sitting. She watched the scene before her eyes like it was a movie. Her sobs had calmed down, replaced by a frozen shock. Beside her, attorney Abernathy gave her a gentle pat on the back, but his eyes stared fixedly at the judge, ready for the final blow.

Zariah stood silently next to the clerk. She was the center of calm in the storm. She only watched her mother as if making sure she was okay. The judge took a deep breath and smoothed his robe. He looked at Tmaine at Valencia and then attorney Cromwell. Mr. Tummaine began the judge with a quiet but terrifying voice.

That video is the property of your daughter and was recorded in your own home. Do you still want to insist that it is manipulated? Tmaine raised his head, his face empty. She She set me up, he muttered. It was a last pathetic attempt. That woman, Valencia, planned everything. She seduced me. Hearing this, Valencia screamed immediately. Liar. You told me to do it.

You told me you would marry me. You told me you would transfer all the money to my account. I did all this for you. Silence. The judge banged his gavvel again. Both are the same. Your confessions have already been recorded in the court record. The judge turned to Valencia. Miss Valencia, you sat on this stand under oath and gave false testimony.

You used your professional credentials to destroy a mother’s life and aid in a crime. You not only violated your code of ethics, but you committed perjury before this court. The judge looked at attorney Cromwell and Attorney Cromwell, did you know or should you have suspected that the evidence you presented, including this testimony, was false? You tried to provoke the witness in the last trial to fit your client’s false narrative. You have disgraced this profession.

I will have the ethics committee revoke your law license. Attorney Cromwell bowed his head, unable to say anything. Finally, the judge looked at Tmaine. His gaze was so piercing it seemed to fle the man alive. Mr. Tummaine, you entered this courtroom demanding justice.

You accused your wife of failure, accused her of instability, demanded her assets, and most heinous of all, demanded to separate a child from her mother. The judge lifted Tmaine’s lawsuit file and held it up. Let’s review your lawsuit. First, the accusation that the wife failed and neglected the home, proven false. The video just demonstrated that you conspired to defame her. The judge threw a sheet from the file to the floor.

Second, the accusation that the wife was financially irresponsible and wasteful. Proven false. The video is a confession that you stole money from your joint account and transferred it to your mistress’s account. This isn’t just defamation. It is theft. He threw the second sheet.

Third, the accusation that the wife was emotionally unstable, backed by false expert testimony, proven as a blatant scheme. The video proves you conspired to provoke your wife, record her in secret, and use it to deceive this court.” He threw the third sheet. “Your entire lawsuit,” the judge’s voice rose, “is a pile of garbage based on lies, greed, and adultery.

The court dismisses entirely the divorce petition presented by Mr. Tmaine.” The gavl struck hard, but the judge wasn’t finished. He looked at attorney Abernathy and Nala. The court will not stop here. Based on this new irrefutable evidence, the court rules to protect the victim. One. The judge raised a finger.

Full custody of the minor Zariah is granted unconditionally to her biological mother, Mrs. Nyala. Niala gasped. The tears now flowing were of relief. She looked at Zariah. two continued the judge. Mr. Tmaine’s divorce suit has been dismissed. However, the court suggests that Mrs. Nyala file a counter suit right now. Mrs. Niala, do you wish to divorce your husband? Attorney Abernathy whispered.

Niala with a trembling but firm voice looked directly at Tmaine, who was now defeated with his head bowed. Yes, your honor, I demand a divorce right now. Good, exclaimed the judge. The court grants the divorce to Mrs. Nyala on the grounds of adultery and fraud by the husband. Full custody to Mrs. Nyala. Three. The judge stood up.

Now all assets in the name of Mr. Tmaine and Ms. Valencia will be frozen immediately. The court orders a full investigation to trace all funds stolen from Mrs. Nyala. The house currently occupied is declared total property of Mrs. Nyala and Zariah. And four. The judge’s voice now resonated throughout the room.

Based on the video evidence and the confessions in this room, I order the immediate arrest of Mr. Tmaine and Ms. Valencia for multiple criminal offenses, including conspiracy to commit fraud, perjury, domestic theft, and tampering with evidence in a court of law. Take them away. The security guards immediately handcuffed Tummaine.

The man who had entered that morning with arrogance was now taken out with his head bowed. He walked past Nyala. He didn’t dare look his wife in the eye. Valencia was also handcuffed. Her screams dried up, leaving only a puffy and messy face. She was dragged away. Her career and her freedom were gone. Niala was still sitting, trembling.

Attorney Abernathy smiled from ear to ear. We won, Nala. We won. Nala couldn’t speak. She simply stood up and walked slowly toward the center of the room. Zariah ran toward her. Nala knelt and hugged her daughter tightly as if hugging her savior. She cried on her small shoulders, not tears of sadness, but tears of a mother saved by her little heroine. The aftermath of Judgment Day spread like wildfire.

The story of the broken tablet made headlines everywhere. The story of the greedy husband, the fake psychologist, and the seven-year-old heroine dominated local news for weeks. The first few weeks were a blur for Nyalla and Zariah. Attorney Abernathy took care of everything.

By order of the judge, all of Tmaine and Valencia’s assets were frozen. The investigation proved that Tmaine had transferred nearly a million dollars to Valencia’s account over the last year. All the money was seized and returned to Nyala’s new account. The big cold house was now officially Nyala’s. But Nala couldn’t stay there anymore. Too many bad memories. Too many shadows of Tmaine and Valencia in every corner.

With attorney Abernathy’s consent, Nyala sold the house. The proceeds from the sale were more than enough to start a new life. The punishment for the villains was swift and severe. Given the overwhelming evidence, Tummaine was sentenced to 12 years in prison for fraud, theft, and perjury. Valencia, whose psychologist credentials turned out to be real but criminally used, was sentenced to 8 years, and her license to practice was permanently revoked. The cunning attorney Cromwell was immediately disbarred by the ethics

committee and faced criminal charges for his participation in the conspiracy. Karma had been paid in full. Three months after that judgment day, the laughter of children was heard in a small green park. Nala, with the weight of worry gone from her face, smiled as she watched Zariah on the swing. They had moved, not to a big house, but to a modest and cozy three-bedroom apartment.

It was full of photos of the two of them, and smelled of cookies Nala had baked. Nala had started a small catering business from home. Her culinary skills, which Tummaine always belittled, were now praised by many. Orders were coming in. She was busy and tired, but happy. She was independent. Mommy, look. Zariah ran toward Nala, who was sitting on a park bench.

Her hands were dirty with soil. The flowers are going to bloom soon. Nala smiled, stroking Zariah’s short hair. Wow, my daughter is very good at planting things. They sat side by side for a while, enjoying the afternoon sun. There was a question Nyala hadn’t had the chance to ask calmly. Princess began Nyala softly.

Can I ask you something? What, Mommy? Zariah looked at her with clear eyes. The video on the old tablet. Why? Why did you record it? Zariah was silent for a moment, as if remembering. Because I didn’t like Auntie Valencia. Why didn’t you like her? Auntie Valencia pretended to be nice, smiled at mommy, and talked to you at the mall.

But when mommy went to the bathroom, she told Daddy, “Your wife takes too long.” And in the park, too. She saw me, but she told Daddy that mommy wasn’t watching me. But mommy was watching me. Nala was amazed. Her little daughter was a sharp observer. And that night, continued Zariah, Daddy said he was working late, but I heard his car come back.

I wanted to show Daddy my new drawing. But when I went down, I saw Daddy come in with Auntie Valencia. Daddy hugged her right away. I got scared, so I hid behind the flower pot. So, I recorded there. Yes, I used the old tablet to record. I remembered Mommy said that if there are bad people, there must be proof.

And I had the old tablet with me. Nala’s heart warmed. She had forgotten she had said that. But Princess asked Nyala again. This was the most important question. Why didn’t you tell mommy? Why did you keep it a secret? Zariah interrupted herself in a low voice. Daddy said mommy shouldn’t know. Nyala frowned.

Daddy told you that? Yes. In the video, Daddy told Auntie Valencia, “My wife is stupid. She won’t know. Zariah thought it was a big secret because daddy said mommy shouldn’t know. So, I kept it. I didn’t want daddy to get mad if mommy found out. It was the pure logic of a child.

She had aggravated her father’s crime, but she had kept it secret because her own father had told her mother shouldn’t know. So, why did you show it in court? Because the judge was going to take Zariah away from mommy. Daddy said mommy was bad. And Auntie Valencia also said mommy was bad and that’s not true. Zariah had tears in her eyes. I don’t want to be separated from mommy. Mommy isn’t bad. Mommy is the best mom.

So I had to show the judge that daddy and Auntie Valencia are the bad ones. Nala couldn’t hold back anymore. She hugged Zariah tightly. She cried tears of joy. For all this time she had suffered Tmaine’s accusations that she was a failed mother. She had doubted herself, felt destroyed. But before her was the strongest proof that she hadn’t failed.

She had raised an incredible daughter, a pure, sharp girl who could distinguish truth from falsehood. A brave girl with the courage to act alone to protect her mother. A girl with a pure sense of justice. “Thank you, princess,” whispered Nyala into her daughter’s hair. “Thank you for saving me.” Zariah hugged her. I love you, Mommy. I love you, too, Zariah.

Naala undid the hug and looked at her daughter’s bright face. Finally, she understood. She had never failed. She had just been raising a heroine, and now both were free for a new beginning.