Five Years Up I Reveal I'm The Richest He Kneels And Begs novel Chapter 64

Chapter 20

The news of Angelo’s critical condition came on the third day of Priscilla’s presence at the

international court.

At that time, she had just finished a seven–hour debate, fighting for a huge compensation for fishermen affected by pollution from multinational companies.

As I walked out of the courtroom, my assistant hurriedly handed me my phone with a short message on the screen.

“Mr. Haley’s old injury got infected, and the doctor issued a critical condition notice.”

Priscilla’s steps paused for a moment, but quickly resumed. She locked her phone screen and calmly instructed her assistant to arrange the return flight.

Until late at night, she received the letter in the hotel room.

The envelope was plain white, but the handwriting was so familiar it hurt my eyes. I stared at the signature for a long time before slowly opening it.

The letter was very short.

“I’ve won countless cases in my life, but I only lost you.”

The pen is still sharp, just the ink is much lighter than before, like the person writing has lost some strength.

Priscilla stared at those lines, suddenly remembered a night many years ago.

Back then they weren’t divorced yet. She stayed up late to organize files for him, and prepared hot coffee and midnight snacks for him.

Two people stood facing each other, and there was a moment of silence in the study. She looked at the file on the table, and caught a glimpse of the dark blue in Angelo’s eyes.

The case was tricky, and he had been working on it for three days.

“Do you think we can win this time?” she asked softly.

He chuckled softly, his voice filled with her familiar confidence, “When have I ever lost?”

Yeah, when did he ever lose?

She looked at confident Angelo and thought, “I could just take care of him for the rest of

But later on, things changed.

They still took that step.

my life.”

She closed her eyes, folded the letter in half, then in half again, and then fed it into the shredder.

With the buzzing of the machine in the background, the assistant walked in and reminded her that the press conference was about to start.

Priscilla stood up, adjusted her suit collar, and walked towards the stage under the spotlight.

I didn’t look back again.

Years later, a new statue was erected on the central lawn of Radren Law School.

It was a bronze sculpture of a female figure, with her eyes slightly downcast, holding a code in her left hand and reaching forward with her right hand, palm facing up, as if silently supporting some heavy belief.

There was a line of words engraved on the base.

“Justice never backs down.” – Prissie

On the day of the statue unveiling, Radren Law School was packed with people.

Reporters, students, colleagues from the legal profession, and even a few Supreme Court justices showed up.

“The special thing about this statue,” the dean introduced to the media, “is that the scales are not held in the hands of the figure, but cast into the base – because real justice never needs to be

deliberately held high.”

Priscilla stood at the front of the crowd, wearing a simple black suit, no jewelry, just a small scale badge on her chest.

A young student tiptoed and whispered to his friend, “Is that the legendary female lawyer? I heard

she won an international environmental case and also pushed for the revision of the

Anti–domestic Violence Law.”

The companion nodded and whispered, “But I heard she used to have a thing with Angelo

before…”

“Angelo? Hasn’t he already-”

“Shh!”

“Let it go, those things are long gone.”

The discussion came to a sudden halt.

An old professor with white hair stood next to the statue, answering questions from reporters.

A reporter keenly caught the whisper just now and asked, “Is it true that Ms. Shepard and the late

lawyer Angelo were once a golden duo in the legal world, and even had a marriage relationship?”

The old professor pushed his glasses and scanned the crowd, finally resting on Priscilla’s calm profile.

“No,” he shook his head slowly, “she has always belonged to the law.”

Priscilla’s expression didn’t change at all, as if they were talking about a complete stranger to her.

After the crowd dispersed, she stood alone in front of the statue, gently touching the cold inscription. As the sun set in the west, her shadow stretched long all the way to the gingko tree at the end of the lawn.

In a daze, she seemed to see a tall, thin figure standing under the tree, his black windbreaker

blowing in the wind, just like the day they brushed past each other at Ushurg Courthouse years

ago.

But she knew, there was actually nothing there.

Just like that letter that has long turned to dust, just like those words that were never spoken.

She took back her hand and walked away.

In the distance, the setting sun was like blood, as if a sigh from an old friend.