Prosecutor: State your full name for the court, please.
Bridesmaid: Chloe Rebecca Miller.
Six months later, the city courtroom was packed to capacity. Reporters and news cameras filled the back benches, broadcasting the trial across the entire country. I sat at the defense table wearing a dark gray jumpsuit, my hair tied back, and my hands free of makeup. My lawyer sat beside me, looking through a thick stack of legal documents.
Prosecutor: Miss Miller, please describe what you saw on the afternoon of May 14th.
Bridesmaid: I went into the catering prep kitchen to check on the cake. I saw Jessica standing near the bar cart holding two champagne flutes. She pulled a glass vial out of her dress and dropped a tablet into Brandon's glass.
Prosecutor: What did you do next?
Bridesmaid: I took out my phone and recorded her. Then I ran out to the ballroom and slapped the glass away before he drank it.
Defense Lawyer: Objection, Your Honor! The witness had a personal conflict with my client regarding financial debts!
Judge: Overruled. The video evidence speaks for itself.
The prosecutor turned to the large monitor mounted on the courtroom wall. He pressed play, and the high-definition video filled the room. Everyone watched as my hands dropped the pill into the champagne, watching it fizz and disappear into the gold liquid.
Prosecutor: We also submit into evidence the lab report from the state forensics team. The tablet contained fatal doses of potassium cyanide, enough to cause heart failure within sixty seconds.
The jury gasped softly, exchanging cold looks as they turned their eyes toward me.
Prosecutor: Brandon Vance, please take the stand.
Brandon walked up to the witness box, wearing a dark blue suit. He looked calm, composed, and completely detached from me.
Prosecutor: Mr. Vance, did you have any idea your wife was planning this attack?
Brandon: None at all. She had convinced me to take out a ten-million-dollar policy just two weeks before the wedding, claiming her father's lawyer recommended it for our estate planning.
Prosecutor: And did you find out the truth about her father's company?
Brandon: Yes. Their firm was six million dollars in debt. They were facing immediate foreclosure and criminal bankruptcy charges.
Prosecutor: No further questions, Your Honor.
The judge looked down at me from his bench, his expression stern and unforgiving.
Judge: Will the defendant please stand for sentencing?
I stood up slowly, my legs shaking as my lawyer held my arm.
Judge: Jessica Reed, you planned the cold-blooded murder of your groom on what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life. For attempted first-degree murder, insurance fraud, and reckless endangerment, I sentence you to twenty-five years in state prison without the possibility of parole.
The wooden gavel hit the desk with a heavy thud. I collapsed back into my chair, sobbing as the bailiffs stepped forward to lock the steel chains around my waist.