Page 76 of Stalk Me

“And did you do these things?”

“Yes.” Her voice is barely audible. “I did terrible things to her. I showed that video in class, spread rumors, and turned people against her. I even helped them gather compromising photos.”

I struggle to breathe, my chest constricting as memories flood back—Belle’s smirking face as that video played, the calculated cruelty of her attacks, the relentless campaign to isolate me. All this time, she was just another victim, another pawn in my parents’ savage games.

“Why are you testifying today, Ms. Gallagher?” David asks.

Belle looks up, her gaze finding mine across the courtroom. “Because Luna deserves justice. Because what they did to her—what they did to all of us—was monstrous. And because…” She pauses, wiping away tears. “Because I’m sorry. I was a coward. I chose my safety over hers, and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. I’m not here to face them. I’m here to face her.”

I feel tears sliding down my own cheeks now, hot and unexpected. There’s no satisfaction in seeing Belle broken like this, no vindication in knowing she suffered too. There’s only the raw recognition of our shared trauma, our parallel paths through darkness.

“Did the defendants ever indicate why they were so focused on controlling Luna?” David asks.

“Yes.” Belle’s voice strengthens slightly. “Sebastian once told my father that Luna had become a liability because she was forming real attachments. He said she was their most valuable asset, that her genetic profile was ‘optimal’ for their long-term plans. They were arranging her marriage to cement some sort of business alliance.”

The revelation shouldn’t shock me—I saw the emails, I knew their plans—but hearing it stated so baldly makes my stomach turn. I was never a daughter to them; I was only inventory.

“And Erik Stone? What were their plans for him?”

Belle’s gaze flickers to Erik. “They saw him as leverage. His father’s position on the Congressional Oversight Committee made him valuable. They wanted to compromise him, use him to control Luna, then use them both to influence his father.”

David nods, pacing slightly. “Ms. Gallagher, are you aware of a facility called Munich?”

Belle pales visibly. “Yes. It’s where they send people who need to be ‘recalibrated,’ as they call it. I was threatened with it several times. It’s a place where they break you down completely, using drugs and psychological techniques. People come back… different.”

“Were you ever sent there?”

“No.” Her voice cracks. “But I was terrified of it. Everyone was.”

David continues with a few more technical questions before turning Belle over to the defense. My parents’ lawyer—a shark in an expensive suit—rises slowly, his expression carefully neutral.

“Ms. Gallagher, you’ve admitted to participating in what amounts to criminal harassment of Ms. Queen. Why should this court believe your testimony isn’t simply an attempt to secure leniency for yourself?”

Belle flinches but holds steady. “I’ve been granted immunity in exchange for my testimony. I’m not here to save myself. I’m here because it’s the right thing to do.”

“How convenient,” the lawyer drawls. “And these alleged ‘parties’ you claim to have attended—can you provide any evidence beyond your word that they occurred as you’ve described?”

“I provided investigators with dates, locations, names of people present. I’ve turned over photos, messages, everything I had.” Belle’s chin rises slightly. “I have nothing left to hide.”

The cross-examination continues for another thirty minutes, the defense attorney trying to undermine Belle’s credibility and painting her as a jealous rival seeking revenge. But Belle stands firm, her testimony unshaken despite his increasingly aggressive questioning.

When she’s finally dismissed, our eyes meet again as she passes. I see it as clear as day: a silent apology, a recognition of shared pain. I give her the slightest nod, neither forgiveness nor rejection, just acknowledgment of the truth between us.

The judge calls a recess until later in the afternoon, when the lawyers will give their closing speeches. As we file out of the courtroom, Erik keeps me close, shielding me from the press clamoring at the barriers. David joins us, his expression grave but satisfied.

“That went better than expected,” he says quietly as he escorts us to a private conference room. “Belle’s testimony in person was more compelling than when her deposition was being read. The jury couldn’t take their eyes off her.”

“I had no idea,” I murmur, still processing the revelation. “All this time, I thought she hated me because…”

“Because that’s what they wanted you to think,” Erik finishes for me, his arm tightening around my waist. “They isolated both of you, turned you against each other. It’s what they do.”

I sink into a chair, exhaustion washing over me. “How many others do you think there are? Girls like us, used and discarded when we became inconvenient?”

David and Erik exchange glances. “The investigation is ongoing,” David says carefully. “But based on the evidence we’ve uncovered, dozens at least, possibly more.”

The weight of it settles over me, a heavy mantle of responsibility. I’m not just fighting for myself anymore, or even for Erik. I’m fighting for all of them—the named and unnamed victims of my parents’ machinations.

“Will it be enough?” I ask. “The testimonies, the evidence—will it be enough to put them away for good?”

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