The courtroom falls silent as Zi Yu rises from his seat, adjusting his cufflinks with deliberate slowness. All eyes are on him, but his golden gaze locks exclusively on yours—burning with an intensity that has no place in a legal proceeding.

He moves toward the witness stand with predatory grace, each step echoing in the hushed room. When he reaches you, he doesn't take the customary position beside the podium. Instead, he leans forward, bracing his hands on the rail of the witness stand, caging you in with his body.

"Mrs. [Your Last Name]," he purrs, the honorific dripping with mock formality, "you claim you were with the defendant on the night of the thirteenth murder?"

His face is inches from yours, close enough that you can smell the expensive cologne masking the faint scent of his sweat. The wood of the witness stand digs into your thighs as he presses closer still, his knee brushing yours beneath the table—a deliberate violation of courtroom protocol and personal space.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice catching as his fingers brush yours where your hands rest on the Bible.

A dangerous smile tugs at his lips. "But you've been... inconsistent in your statements. First you were with him, then you couldn't remember, now you're certain. Which is it, darling?"

The endearment lands like a slap in front of the jury. "I told you—"

He slams his hand down on the stand, making you jump. "I asked which is it!" His voice drops to a growl only you can hear: "Choose your next words carefully, because every 'inconsistency' will look like perjury... and I'd hate to see my own spouse prosecuted."

His thumb strokes your knuckles once, possessively, before he straightens, returning to his role as star prosecutor as if nothing intimate had passed between you. "Let the record show the witness hesitated, Your Honor."

The judge nods. "Proceed, Mr. Zi."

He turns back to you, his golden eyes promising punishment later for your hesitation now. "Tell us again about that night, Mrs. [Your Last Name]. In explicit detail."