Winning My Ex-Crush

Fenella’s POV

I stared at the two men standing in the defendant’s place. Laird’s face looked stern, his eyes squinting at Alan, while Alan appeared worried. Opposite them, Prosecutor Golden, standing behind the prosecutor’s table, now wore a smug smile.

“What’s your answer, Mr. Schmidt?” Judge Brown asked impatiently.

Everyone whispered anxiously, waiting for Alan’s response. I glanced at Jessy, and we exchanged nervous looks. It never occurred to me that Alan would change his mind at the last moment. But apparently, it could happen!

“Your Honor, I-” Alan’s voice caught in his throat: “I plead guilty.”

My eyes widened as I heard Alan finish his sentence, followed immediately by a sigh of relief. Reporters scribbled notes, Jessy breathed a sigh of relief, and so did Laird. I felt drained and held Jessy’s hand tighter. Both of us smiled broadly.

“Everything will be fine,” Jessy whispered to me.

“Thank you, Jessy,” I whispered back.

Upon hearing Alan’s answer, Judge Brown also seemed relieved. Her smile widened slightly, and she nodded. She wrote something on her desk and cleared her throat.

“With the defendant’s plea of guilty to all charges brought against him by the State of New York, represented by District Attorney Mr. Malcolm Golden, I hereby decide to impose the following sentence.” The judge adjusted her glasses momentarily.

“For the charges of DUI, damaging public facilities, and assault on police officers, the defendant is fined $5, 000, driving license suspension for 6 months, and a jail sentence of 7 days minus days already served at the Queens Precinct.” The judge paused to review the document in her hand.

“This jail sentence is a subsidiary with a fine of $2, 500,” the judge continued.

I saw Alan look at Laird with a relieved expression upon hearing the judge’s additional decision. Unfortunately, Judge Brown wasn’t done reading her verdict. As her voice echoed again, I could only stand frozen, listening intently.

“The defendant is also required to undergo monthly sessions of mental health and addiction rehabilitation therapy with a government psychiatrist for 6 months,” she said.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

Everyone murmured again upon hearing this additional sentence. Alan and Laird exchanged looks with furrowed brows. I glanced at Jessy, my mouth gaping in astonishment at the judge’s decision.

“Thus, this decision is read on behalf of the State of New York. My court declares this trial closed.”

The judge pounded her gavel three times.

Immediately after, Alan hugged Laird quickly. Jessy and I chuckled as we saw Laird pushing Alan away. We walked over to them, but before reaching them, my laughter stopped when I saw the prosecutor slowly approaching them.

I walked slowly towards them, trying to listen in on their conversation. What if the old prosecutor really exposed everything? Would there be another trial? I closed my mouth and stood by the wooden fence.

“You seem happy,” the gray-haired man said.

“Mr. Golden, thank you for sparing the time and effort to handle our small case,” Laird said, shaking his hand as a gesture of politeness.

“I just wanted to get to know you. From this case, I see a lot of similarities with your father, Mr. Evans. But I also see many differences,” he smiled wryly.

“Keep your judgment to yourself, Mr. Golden,” Laird replied firmly.

“Listen, champ. If you make the wrong decision again, I’ll personally drag you into a cell. I won’t stop, even if old man Evans himself is your lawyer. Remember that,” Prosecutor Golden threatened him with a cold voice that sent shivers down my spine.

Laird stared silently as the man walked away. His face looked grim, and I couldn’t shake off my worry when I saw that dark expression.

I didn’t know what happened, but it seemed there was a bad history between Laird’s father and that man. Because of that, Laird seemed trapped in the middle of their feud, like he would be a victim.

To ease the tension, I pushed through the dividing fence. I hugged Laird tightly, causing him to startle.

“Hey, love. You’re safe now,” Laird said, stroking my head.

I nodded and released my embrace from Laird. Then, I turned to Alan, standing next to Laird. I held both of Alan’s hands.

“Thank you, Alan. I promise to repay my debt to you,” and then I hugged him briefly.

***

“I feel guilty for my carelessness, causing inconvenience to many people. I realize that what I did brought harm to the people I cherish around me.” Alan shook his head.

“Therefore, please accept my sincere apology.” Alan clasped his hands in front of his chest, and the camera flashes immediately overlapped.

His expression was pitiful yet calm. He also showed a concerned look for a few seconds. There was no arrogant smirk, no mocking laughter, and no hurtful words.

Alan Schmidt was like a saint who had just redeemed himself by speaking in front of the camera outside the New York courthouse. The news of the CEO, who owns several fashion brands, and Gene Talent Management being willing to pay all the consequences for his actions has now been hailed as an angel by the fashion and entertainment industries.

I then opened some comments on the online video news.

‘Thank goodness everything ended well.’

‘At least he has the money to pay the fine.’

‘He didn’t kill anyone, so I guess he can still be forgiven.’

Suddenly, I saw one commentator named Kiara the Greatest. She spammed the same comment multiple times. Strangely, I felt like I knew that commentator.

‘The court is already ruined! Someone like that deserves a 7-year prison sentence, not 7 days! Alan Schmidt, I hope you die!’

“Are you ready?”

I turned to Laird, who emerged from the bathroom already dressed in his usual smart suit. He still looked handsome, with a firm jaw, neatly combed hair, and a broad chest outlined in his crisp white shirt.

“Yes, I’m ready,” I said, rising from the sofa.

“Are you still watching that news? It’s been three days,” he said, looking puzzled at why I kept watching the news video about Alan’s sentence reading.

“I can’t help it,” I shrugged, adjusting his navy blue tie.

“Why?” he asked, furrowing his brow as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“I don’t know. I feel guilty. I should have been in his place, apologizing in front of the camera while crying,” I sighed after Laird’s tie was neatly tied.

“Don’t feel guilty. From the beginning, Alan was wrong to incite you to drive while he was drunk instead of being vigilant and watching over you,” he concluded firmly.

“Maybe he felt relaxed, thinking he could escape the law by paying a sum of money. He almost did something reckless when he couldn’t afford to escape from jail,” he snorted.

“But I didn’t expect Judge Brown to add the subsidary fine and mandatory therapy. Until now, I didn’t understand the reason behind her decision,” I said, walking side by side with Laird out of the apartment.

“That’s probably because she saw Alan’s behavior indicating signs of personality disorder and felt he needed therapy more than meeting other inmates. You know how the man behaved during the trial,” Laird analyzed as usual.

I fell silent, pondering all this in my mind. Alan Schmidt was now more than just a boss. He was my savior. I couldn’t believe how he sacrificed time, money, and effort to save me from punishment.

Especially the time spent going back and forth to therapy with a psychiatrist once a month. That couldn’t be valued by mere money alone. I just hoped the contracts I worked on would be enough to cover all the losses Alan bore.

“Do you want me to drop you off at Gene’s office directly, or do you want to come to my office first?” Laird asked, breaking my reverie as we got into his car.

“Can I come to your office?” I asked, my eyes widening and a smile spreading across my face.