Freya's POV
A few minutes later, the trial continued.
I sat back in the plaintiff's seat.
Both lawyers continued to spar with each other.
The defense lawyer's skill was truly on par with Finley's, but Finley had the upper hand since our evidence was strong.
The defense struggled to present new evidence and gradually found themselves at a disadvantage. As the arguments from both sides concluded, the scene shifted to multiple deliberations before the verdict was delivered.
The defendant was found guilty of defamation and immediately issued a public apology on Facebook and other platforms.
They agreed to apologize publicly for over seven days and compensate me, the plaintiff, for moral damages, lost wages, and other costs, totaling five hundred thousand dollars.
This outcome was within my expectations.
After the trial, reporters who had been waiting for interviews swarmed around me as I left the courtroom. They bombarded me with questions on various topics, from my emotional state to my feud with Tracy.
I had been battling Grace for years, so I was well-prepared to handle their inquiries. Finley managed the time and, after ten minutes, reminded me, "It's time to go."
I responded, "I'm sorry, let's call it a day. We can talk again next time we have the chance."
The reporters expressed their regrets but cleared a path.
Finley shielded me with one hand, forming a protective barrier around my waist to prevent the overzealous reporters from touching me. When we reached the car, he opened the door for me, and we both got in.
I purposely ignored the burning gaze from Kingsley behind me and his cold breath, trying to appear unfazed as I left the courtroom.
Once inside the car, I leaned back in my seat and sighed with relief. Only then did I say, "Finley, it's been a tough day."
Finley smiled and said, "Well, luckily, we didn't work hard for nothing."
I chuckled.
After winning the lawsuit, I was in a much better mood and asked, "Would you like to join me for dinner? What kind of food do you prefer?"
Finley tapped the steering wheel and replied warmly, "I'm open to anything. What are you in the mood for?"
I grinned and suggested, "How about a nice meal? Maybe a steak?"
Finley heard me and responded, "Good."
Just then, my cell phone rang. I took it out, and it was an unknown caller.
"Hello," a raspy male voice came from the other end of the line, "Is this Ms. Freya?"
The voice was unfamiliar, and I didn't recognize the caller. Instead of answering directly, I cautiously inquired, "And who are you?"
"Didn't you send me an email the other day?"
An email? I was momentarily taken aback, quickly becoming alert.
"Are you Detective Kevin?" I asked.
The other party responded with a thoughtful "hmm" and said, "I've read your claim. Do you have time today? Why don't we meet and discuss it in detail?"
I hurriedly replied, "Sure."
Kevin was a renowned private detective.
However, he didn't operate from a detective agency, and his whereabouts were unpredictable.
There was only one publicly available email address for him on the forum. If someone wanted to collaborate with him, he would send an email, and Kevin would decide whether or not to respond.
After discovering certain items in the safe and learning that my mother had initiated divorce proceedings against Theo a few years ago, I began to suspect the car accident from a few years ago.
Kevin explained the time and place, and he didn't ask any further questions. He simply said, "See you shortly."
After I had dealt with Livia's funeral arrangements, I asked a friend to help me retrieve the accident file from a few years ago.
The investigation revealed that after Livia's accident that year, the personnel in charge of the traffic accident at that time failed to collect her blood samples, resulting in no blood drug test being conducted.
Consequently, there was no way to confirm whether Livia was on antidepressants at that time.
When the authorities offered to test the blood, Theo declined, citing my mother's serious injuries and her stay in the ICU.
In other words, the police officers who had investigated the scene had merely speculated that my mother was suffering from depression at the time. There was no concrete evidence to support this claim.
Ever since I became aware of this, I increasingly felt that there might have been more to the car accident from back then. However, after many years had passed, the vehicle involved in the accident had already been destroyed, and there was no way to request a reopening of the case without new evidence.
That was when I decided to enlist the help of a private detective named Kevin.
After parting ways with Finley, I followed the address sent by Kevin.
I discovered a small restaurant tucked away in the narrow alleys of the old town, where they specialized in selling pastas. It took me some time to find it, as I had to navigate through the labyrinthine streets.
Upon pushing open the restaurant's door and stepping inside, I saw that the place, which was just a dozen square meters in size, was packed with patrons enjoying their dishes. The customers varied in age and gender, but none of them appeared to be a detective.
As I furrowed my brows in uncertainty, a tap on my shoulder startled me.
"Ms. Freya?" a voice inquired.
I turned around and saw a young man dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt and jeans standing behind me. He was notably taller than me, with a slender build, a fair complexion, striking golden eyes, and a hint of youthful charm, resembling a college student.
"Are you Kevin?" I asked cautiously.
The young man chuckled. "I don't look the part, do I?" he replied.
I commented, "You seem quite young."
Kevin signaled to the boss and ordered a plate of pasta before casually taking a seat. "My youthful appearance is deceiving; I'm actually 37," he remarked.
I pulled out a chair and joined him, initiating a conversation. As we talked, the pasta was served, and Kevin devoured his meal eagerly, as though he were a hungry wolf who hadn't eaten in days
After wiping his mouth with a paper towel, he lifted his gaze and asked, "Do you suspect that your father or his mistress might have orchestrated the accident?"
I replied in a hushed tone, "I just can't shake the feeling that it's too much of a coincidence. They were on the verge of divorce, and then the accident happened.And the one who benefited the most was Theo. I can't help but consider that possibility."
If that accident from years ago had indeed been anything but an accident, I was determined to make Theo face the consequences, no matter what.