I Married My Ex's Billionaire Father-Chapter 308: Bail Hearing

Ophelia Welhaven had never in her life felt so grateful for money.

The moment the lawyer returned to the station two hours later, everything changed.

A few hushed conversations, a discreet envelope passed from hand to hand, and suddenly the world began bending itself back into a shape she recognized.

Priviledge.

No more holding cell.

No more sharing space with criminals.

No more filthy benches and flickering fluorescent lights.

Instead, she was escorted to a small private room at the far end of the precinct. Which, technically was still detention, but very different from the cage she had been thrown into earlier.

The room had a narrow bed with clean sheets, a private sink, and most importantly a door that locked from the outside but kept everyone else out.

Ophelia sat stiffly on the edge of the mattress and exhaled for the first time that night.

It was not freedom.

But it was survival.

Her lawyer, Mr. Hargreave, stood near the door, looking exhausted and vaguely uncomfortable.

"I’ve arranged for temporary accommodations until your hearing tomorrow morning," he explained. "You’ll remain here overnight."

Ophelia touched her tender cheek and frowned.

"This is still unacceptable," she muttered. "But I suppose it will have to do."

"It’s the best I could manage on short notice," he replied carefully.

She shot him a sharp look. "You’ll do better tomorrow."

"Yes, Ms. Welhaven."

Ophelia crossed her arms and stared at the blank wall in front of her.

The humiliation still burned.

The fingerprints.

The photographs.

The filthy woman who had dared to strike her.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

This was only temporary.

Tomorrow she would walk out of here.

Tomorrow she would reclaim control.

The night crawled by painfully slowly.

Ophelia barely slept.

Every unfamiliar sound made her flinch. Every time footsteps echoed down the hall she imagined the cell door opening and that horrible woman stepping inside again.

By dawn she looked almost as wretched as she felt.

Her hair had lost its usual immaculate shine. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes. The swelling on her cheeks had faded into ugly reddish marks and without make up she looked like a ghost.

She had never looked less like a Welhaven.

And she hated it.

At seven in the morning, the door opened.

"Time to get ready," the guard announced.

Ophelia straightened her spine.

Finally.

Her lawyer arrived shortly after, carrying a garment bag and a cosmetics case.

"I took the liberty of having some of your things brought from home," he said.

For the first time since her arrest, Ophelia almost smiled.

"Good."

Within an hour she was transformed.

The disheveled prisoner vanished.

In her place stood Ophelia Welhaven once more, perfectly styled hair, tasteful makeup, an elegant navy suit that whispered wealth and refinement.

Looking in the small mirror, she felt her confidence slowly return.

Appearances mattered.

Especially in court.

"Remember," Hargreave cautioned as they prepared to leave, "the prosecution will argue that you are a flight risk. We must appear calm, cooperative, and respectable."

"I am respectable," Ophelia snapped.

"Of course," he said diplomatically.

The guard returned, handcuffs in hand.

Ophelia stared at them in outrage.

"Absolutely not," she hissed.

"Policy," the guard replied with a shrug.

Her lawyer leaned close. "Just endure it for now," he whispered. "It won’t last long."

Grinding her teeth, Ophelia allowed the cuffs to be placed around her wrists.

This, she vowed, would be the last time.

The courthouse was already buzzing when she arrived.

Reporters swarmed the steps like vultures.

"Ms Welhaven! Any comment on the charges?"

"Did you really order the murder of your own husband?"

"Are you guilty?"

Flashbulbs exploded.

Voices shouted.

Ophelia kept her head high and her expression serene, exactly as she had practiced.

Inside, the chaos faded into tense silence.

The courtroom was smaller than she expected.

And far more intimidating.

Ken Stuart sat on a desk behind the opposing legal team, beside him were Bella and most infuriating of all, Lyse.

Her niece.

The girl who had ruined everything.

Lyse looked pale but composed, Levi sitting protectively beside her.

Ophelia’s lips tightened.

So they had all come to watch her fall.

How sweet.

She would disappoint them.

"All rise."

The judge entered.

Proceedings began.

The prosecutor stood first.

"Your Honor, the state strongly opposes bail," he announced. "The defendant is charged with orchestrating the murder of Lord Whitburr. She has significant financial resources and international connections. We believe she poses an extreme flight risk."

Ophelia stiffened.

Her lawyer rose smoothly.

"Your Honor, my client is a lifelong member of this community," Hargreave argued. "She has no criminal history, deep roots in the area, and is prepared to surrender her passport and comply with any conditions the court deems necessary."

He turned to Ophelia.

"Ms. Welhaven is not a danger to anyone."

Ophelia folded her hands delicately in her lap, projecting calm innocence.

The judge studied her.

"Ms. Welhaven," he said, "do you understand the seriousness of these charges?"

"Yes, Your Honor," she replied softly.

"And you deny them?"

"Completely."

A murmur passed through the room.

The prosecutor stepped forward again.

"Your Honor, we have substantial evidence, including witness testimony and financial records linking the defendant to the hired assailant."

Ophelia felt her composure crack.

Financial records?

What financial records?

Her gaze flicked nervously to her lawyer.

He gave a subtle shake of his head, warning her to stay quiet.

The judge leaned back in his chair.

"This is not a minor case," he said. "However, bail is not meant to punish, it is meant to ensure appearance at trial."

He paused.

Ophelia held her breath.

"I will grant conditional bail."

Relief flooded her chest so violently she nearly sagged in her seat.

But the judge wasn’t finished.

"Bail is set at five million dollars."

Gasps rippled through the courtroom.

Ophelia froze.

Five million?

"In addition," the judge continued, "the defendant will surrender all travel documents, remain under house arrest with electronic monitoring, and have no contact with any potential witnesses, including Lyse Welhaven and Ken Stuart."

Her jaw clenched.

House arrest?

No contact?

This was outrageous.

"Any violation of these terms," the judge concluded, "will result in immediate revocation of bail."

The gavel came down.

"Court is adjourned."

Outside the courtroom, reporters surged forward again.

Ophelia ignored them.

Five million dollars was nothing.

She would pay it.

She would go home.

She would prepare.

And then she would destroy every single person who had dared to put her in this position.

As she was escorted away to finalize the paperwork, her eyes locked briefly with Lyse’s across the hallway.

The girl looked relieved.

Hopeful.

Safe.

Ophelia smiled.

A slow, cold, dangerous smile.

Enjoy it while you can, she thought.

This is far from over.