"I thought she was released and freed after being bailed out, but she was sent back in again just after three days of staying in ICU."

A few female inmates came and surrounded her, eying the girl as if she were a disease.

"I heard someone was after her, and didn't let her release easily."

The well-built female gang leader pulled on Verena's hair and let out a burst of sinister laughter. "What a good life this woman had! Watch me beat her to death today again!"

Verena did not even bat an eyelid. Let them beat her to death. If she were beaten to death, it would be perfect for her to reunite with her mother.

Soon, she was kicked hard in the stomach. The pain reflected how her life had turned out so badly.

When Verena woke up, three days had passed since she had been badly beaten, and she was in prison.

She was sent to the medical care area because she had a high fever after the beating. The officer didn't pay much attention to her, saying that it was Verena's mistake.

Her fever came down after three days, and she was returned to the original imprisonment area.

As the women started to strip Verena of her clothing to give her a good beating again.

But before she could open all the buttons, a stern voice came from the door. "What are you doing?"

The female gang leader instantly smiled apologetically. "Verena was sick. We were just concerned for her."

"You! Come out now!"

Verena opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling confusedly. Verena thought she had hallucinated. It wasn't until she was out of prison that she realised it was real.

She cried tears of joy.

"Are you Miss Bradbury?" A man's voice asked coldly.

The man in a suit stood before Verena, and a black car was parked right behind him. Another man with shades could be seen vaguely inside the car, watching her.

She nodded. "Yes, that's me. You…"

The man did not answer but turned around and spoke politely to the man in shades seated in the car. "Young Master Louis, it's her."

"Bring her over!" The man in shades barked the words.

"Yes, sir! At once!" The man quickly replied.

Verena, who was still confused, was pushed into the car and sat next to the man in shades.

"What are you doing?" Verena shouted for the man who previously pushed her like she couldn't walk; she glared at him as he closed the door.

She wanted to open the door, but the 'irk' should have been produced, and the doors were locked.

She immediately felt a cold, murderous aura coming from him. She turned slowly towards him, and when she saw his face, she could only look at him.

Although he was wearing shades, half of his face was covered with them. She glanced at his hearted lips and the sharp jawline as he just walked out of the magazine.

Verena felt her life was in his hands. "I am Louis Heisenberng." The man introduced himself coldly. He looked like he was forcing himself to say so.

Something amusing and dangerous played in Louis's gaze.

Verena suddenly thought his voice was familiar, but she hadn't met anyone in four years and three months. How in the world did she feel he was familiar?

Verena could not help but shiver and ask gently, "I have not been acquitted... But I am going to receive my death sentence, right?" She paused, wanting to tell him.

"It's not me! I didn't kill him." She started, but—

"I'm taking you to get a marriage certificate, Verena!" Her heartbeats collided with a crash.

Why had my name rolled off his tongue like he was more than familiar with it? She thought.

Verena felt the world start spinning around her. What just did he say? She was looking at him with wide eyes, as if she couldn't grasp what he said.

"What did you say?" She thought she had heard it wrong.

He had a face that could bring disaster upon a country. He was cold and arrogant and completely matched to the women's fantasies of a domineering Vice President.

Therefore, even though she hadn't seen him with her own eyes, Verena still recognized him at a glance.

But why was he here?

Louis turned around and saw Verena staring at him. He frowned slightly.

Four years ago, the courtroom was filled with people sitting and waiting anxiously for the criminal to arrive.

Verena sat composed in the witness stand, her demeanor confident despite the intensity of the courtroom. The lawyer from the opposing party leaned forward, his voice laced with accusation as he questioned her whereabouts at the time of the incident.

"Ms. Verena," he began, "can you confirm your presence at the scene of the incident?"

Verena met his gaze evenly. "Yes, I was indeed present."

"And can you clarify what happened on that fateful night?"

Taking a deep breath, Verena recounted the events with clarity. "I was attending a charity gala, surrounded by a crowd of people. Suddenly, chaos erupted as a masked intruder burst into the room, brandishing a weapon."

The lawyer raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And what did you do in response to this intrusion?"

Verena's voice remained steady as she continued. "In the heat of the moment, I acted instinctively to protect myself and others. I grabbed the nearest object—a vase—and used it in self-defense."

Her words hung in the air, the tension palpable in the courtroom.

The lawyer pressed further, his tone incredulous. "So, you're claiming that you struck the assailant with a vase?"

Verena nodded firmly. "Yes, I did. It was a split-second decision, made in fear for my life."

The lawyer paused, then leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with her response. But then, with a cunning gleam in his eye, he changed tactics.

"And what reason would this masked intruder have to target you specifically?"

Verena hesitated, a flicker of discomfort crossing her features before she composed herself once more. "I believe... I believe it was a case of mistaken identity," she said carefully. "Perhaps the intruder had intended to target someone else."

The lawyer's gaze sharpened, sensing a vulnerability in her testimony. "Or perhaps," he suggested, his voice dripping with insinuation, "there was a motive behind this attack that you're not disclosing?"

Verena felt a surge of frustration, but she maintained her composure. "I have nothing to hide," she asserted firmly. "I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

As the questioning continued, Verena remained resolute, determined to defend herself against the mounting doubts and accusations. In the end, it would be the truth—and her unwavering conviction—that would prevail in the eyes of the court.

As her lawyer prepared to attack with more positive aims, the room erupted again. It looked like everyone present here was bought by them.

Angry shouts and accusations fill the air, drowning out Verena's ears.

The judge firmly pounded his gavel, demanding order in the courtroom.

The judge solemnly started speaking, and Verena felt her heart stop beating at the final call for herself.

"Ms. Bradbury, the court has carefully considered both sides of this case. In light of the evidence and the emotional distress you claim to have endured, I hereby pronounce a sentence of four years of imprisonment."

Verena's face crumpled with devastation, and her lawyer looked down as he knew there was no way he could save the young girl today.