Roses for My Mother's Grave, Divorce Papers for Your Funeral - Chapter 116: Chapter 116
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"Prisoner 9527, Marlow Reeves. Collect your belongings and sign your release papers!"
Marlow clutched her meager possessions against her chest, hawk-like eyes flashing with cold determination as she stood waiting behind the prison gate.
One thousand and ninety-five days. Countless nights of torment and humiliation. She had finally made it to this day!
As the iron doors slid open, a wall of reporters thrust microphones and cameras in her face.
"Marlow! Three years ago you lost your law license and your mentor was forced into early retirement. Will you be returning to legal practice now that you're out?"
"Do you have anything to say about the client who killed herself because of your negligence?!"
Marlow slowly raised her gaze, fixing the reporter with an icy stare. "You claim I caused my client's death. What evidence do you have?"
The reporter stammered, caught off guard. "Well, that's what everyone says..."
"Repeating unfounded rumors and spreading hearsay—is that your idea of journalism? Or just your personal brand of clickbait?"
Her quiet tone carried natural authority, leaving several reporters exchanging nervous glances, suddenly hesitant to speak.
Only then did they remember who they were dealing with—before her downfall, Marlow had been the city's most formidable defense attorney, whose razor-sharp tongue had made even seasoned prosecutors break into cold sweats.
Marlow gave a cold smile and moved forward.
The reporter she'd just humiliated subtly stuck out his foot, sending her crashing to the ground.
"Live stream viewers, check this out! Attorney Reeves just took a nasty fall. Karma's a bitch, am I right?"
The reporter aimed his phone at Marlow's fallen form as cruel comments flooded the screen: [SERVES HER RIGHT] [CROOKED LAWYERS DESERVE WORSE] [JUSTICE SERVED].
Everyone watched with mocking smiles as Marlow lay sprawled on the pavement.
Her forehead struck a jagged piece of gravel, tearing open a barely-healed wound. Fresh blood seeped out as unwanted memories flooded her mind.
Three years ago, she had taken on a sexual assault case. Despite being known as "The Undefeated," she was blindsided by her fiancé and half-sister's coordinated betrayal, forcing her to lose the case. When her client jumped to her death after the verdict, the family sued Marlow.
The consequences weren't just a revoked law license—they were three hellish years behind bars.
During her imprisonment, her fiancé and sister paid off guards and inmates to break her—beatings, isolation, psychological torture—all to make her die.
Forced to kneel, eat from the floor, endure repeated slaps—these humiliations had become routine.
Marlow survived on pure spite alone.
Looking at her pale, haggard reflection in a puddle, she barely recognized the once-invincible woman who had dominated courtrooms across the state.
"What's wrong, Attorney Reeves? Prison made your legs weak? Should I find you a wheelchair?" the reporter taunted.
Marlow's lips curved into a cold smile. She raised her hand, dabbed her fingertips in the blood trickling from her forehead, and deliberately smeared it across her lips. Her plain face transformed instantly—suddenly seductive and dangerous, the blood-red lips creating a striking contrast with her ice-cold eyes.
She stared at the press badge on the reporter's chest. "Justice Daily reporter, Mack Valenti. You cover legal affairs, so you should be familiar with New York State defamation law. Are you aware of Section 240.30 of the Penal Law?"
Marlow's gaze was so frigid it could have frozen flame, making Mack visibly shudder.
"How the hell would I know that?" he snapped.
"Aggravated harassment in the second degree—a Class A misdemeanor. In this state, broadcasting defamatory content with the intent to harass, annoy, or alarm constitutes criminal activity. Your TikTok live has what, 7,000 viewers now? The DA's office would love those metrics in their case file."
Dead silence fell over the crowd.
They were all legal correspondents—they knew Marlow was not someone to be trifled with.
Despite her just being released from prison, no one dared challenge her on her legal expertise.
Mack's face drained of color, though he tried to maintain his bravado. "So what? Anyone can Google statutes. Big fucking deal."
"I can cite the entire New York Penal Code including all amendments and precedent-setting cases. Would you like me to demonstrate, and perhaps identify which violations would get you the maximum sentence?" Marlow's smile didn't reach her eyes.
Mack, finally losing his composure, pointed an accusatory finger at her. "No wonder your fiancé dumped you for your sister! What man would want such a cold-blooded bitch?"
He triumphantly pulled up a wedding announcement on his phone, hoping to see Marlow crumble.
But as Marlow stared at the screen, instead of breaking down, her smile widened slightly.
"Oh? My ex-fiancé and dear sister are having their engagement party today? I should send them a special gift."
The more she smiled, the colder her eyes became.
That look was like a sharpened ice pick, aimed directly at the two people behind the phone screen.
Excitement—predatory and intense—surged through her veins.
My darling Liam, my precious sister... the game has begun. Are you ready to play?
Marlow clutched her meager possessions against her chest, hawk-like eyes flashing with cold determination as she stood waiting behind the prison gate.
One thousand and ninety-five days. Countless nights of torment and humiliation. She had finally made it to this day!
As the iron doors slid open, a wall of reporters thrust microphones and cameras in her face.
"Marlow! Three years ago you lost your law license and your mentor was forced into early retirement. Will you be returning to legal practice now that you're out?"
"Do you have anything to say about the client who killed herself because of your negligence?!"
Marlow slowly raised her gaze, fixing the reporter with an icy stare. "You claim I caused my client's death. What evidence do you have?"
The reporter stammered, caught off guard. "Well, that's what everyone says..."
"Repeating unfounded rumors and spreading hearsay—is that your idea of journalism? Or just your personal brand of clickbait?"
Her quiet tone carried natural authority, leaving several reporters exchanging nervous glances, suddenly hesitant to speak.
Only then did they remember who they were dealing with—before her downfall, Marlow had been the city's most formidable defense attorney, whose razor-sharp tongue had made even seasoned prosecutors break into cold sweats.
Marlow gave a cold smile and moved forward.
The reporter she'd just humiliated subtly stuck out his foot, sending her crashing to the ground.
"Live stream viewers, check this out! Attorney Reeves just took a nasty fall. Karma's a bitch, am I right?"
The reporter aimed his phone at Marlow's fallen form as cruel comments flooded the screen: [SERVES HER RIGHT] [CROOKED LAWYERS DESERVE WORSE] [JUSTICE SERVED].
Everyone watched with mocking smiles as Marlow lay sprawled on the pavement.
Her forehead struck a jagged piece of gravel, tearing open a barely-healed wound. Fresh blood seeped out as unwanted memories flooded her mind.
Three years ago, she had taken on a sexual assault case. Despite being known as "The Undefeated," she was blindsided by her fiancé and half-sister's coordinated betrayal, forcing her to lose the case. When her client jumped to her death after the verdict, the family sued Marlow.
The consequences weren't just a revoked law license—they were three hellish years behind bars.
During her imprisonment, her fiancé and sister paid off guards and inmates to break her—beatings, isolation, psychological torture—all to make her die.
Forced to kneel, eat from the floor, endure repeated slaps—these humiliations had become routine.
Marlow survived on pure spite alone.
Looking at her pale, haggard reflection in a puddle, she barely recognized the once-invincible woman who had dominated courtrooms across the state.
"What's wrong, Attorney Reeves? Prison made your legs weak? Should I find you a wheelchair?" the reporter taunted.
Marlow's lips curved into a cold smile. She raised her hand, dabbed her fingertips in the blood trickling from her forehead, and deliberately smeared it across her lips. Her plain face transformed instantly—suddenly seductive and dangerous, the blood-red lips creating a striking contrast with her ice-cold eyes.
She stared at the press badge on the reporter's chest. "Justice Daily reporter, Mack Valenti. You cover legal affairs, so you should be familiar with New York State defamation law. Are you aware of Section 240.30 of the Penal Law?"
Marlow's gaze was so frigid it could have frozen flame, making Mack visibly shudder.
"How the hell would I know that?" he snapped.
"Aggravated harassment in the second degree—a Class A misdemeanor. In this state, broadcasting defamatory content with the intent to harass, annoy, or alarm constitutes criminal activity. Your TikTok live has what, 7,000 viewers now? The DA's office would love those metrics in their case file."
Dead silence fell over the crowd.
They were all legal correspondents—they knew Marlow was not someone to be trifled with.
Despite her just being released from prison, no one dared challenge her on her legal expertise.
Mack's face drained of color, though he tried to maintain his bravado. "So what? Anyone can Google statutes. Big fucking deal."
"I can cite the entire New York Penal Code including all amendments and precedent-setting cases. Would you like me to demonstrate, and perhaps identify which violations would get you the maximum sentence?" Marlow's smile didn't reach her eyes.
Mack, finally losing his composure, pointed an accusatory finger at her. "No wonder your fiancé dumped you for your sister! What man would want such a cold-blooded bitch?"
He triumphantly pulled up a wedding announcement on his phone, hoping to see Marlow crumble.
But as Marlow stared at the screen, instead of breaking down, her smile widened slightly.
"Oh? My ex-fiancé and dear sister are having their engagement party today? I should send them a special gift."
The more she smiled, the colder her eyes became.
That look was like a sharpened ice pick, aimed directly at the two people behind the phone screen.
Excitement—predatory and intense—surged through her veins.
My darling Liam, my precious sister... the game has begun. Are you ready to play?
End of Roses for My Mother's Grave, Divorce Papers for Your Funeral Chapter 116. Continue reading Chapter 117 or return to Roses for My Mother's Grave, Divorce Papers for Your Funeral book page.