Mom, Don't Cry! Here comes a new Daddy! novel Chapter 110

Chapter 102-1

(Jessica’s POV)

The jail cell looks exactly the same as before.

Same gray walls. Same metal toilet in the corner. Same thin mattress on a steel frame that’s somehow both too hard and too soft.

But this time feels different.

This time, there’s no Devin Finley to post bail. No connections to pull strings. No hope of walking out in a few hours with a slap on the wrist and a stern warning.

This time, I’m truly fucked.

I sit on the edge of the mattress, my orange jumpsuit scratching against ray skin, and try to process how

everything went so wrong so fast.

The park. The knife. Dustin throwing himself in front of Sabrina.

All of it captured on multiple cameras. Witnessed by dozens of people. Including children who will probably have nightmares about the crazy lady with the knife for years.

Unlike Jake’s kidnapping-where I at least had the sense to cover my face, to hide my identity, to leave myself plausible deniability-this was public. Undeniable. Stupid.

I attacked a woman in broad daylight in a park full of witnesses.

What was I thinking?

The answer, of course, is that I wasn’t thinking. Rage and jealousy and desperation all twisted together into something toxic that overrode every rational thought.

And now I’m here. Again. With charges that actually stick this time.

Attempted murder. Assault with a deadly weapon. Maybe even terrorism depending on how aggressive the prosecutor wants to be.

I’m looking at years. Decades, potentially.

My hands shake as the reality sinks in.

The guard who processed me said my arraignment is in three days. That I’ll be assigned a public defender since I can’t afford my own lawyer anymore.

A public defender. Me. Jessica Morgan, who once wore designer suits and dined at the best restaurants and had people scrambling to please me.

Now I’m just another criminal statistic waiting for an overworked, underpaid lawyer to half-heartedly represent me.

sa-that spineless, backstabbing award-she gave me up the second her father threatened to

Told the police everything. Every conversation we had. Every plan we made. Painted me as the mastermind who manipulated her into helping me kidnap that bastard Jake

Not that I can refute it. She’s technically right. I did manipulate her Used her feelings for Ethan and her desperation for revenge to get what I wanted.

But I was smart enough not to leave evidence. No texts. No emails. No paper trail connecting me to Jake’s kidnapping beyond Freya’s word.

Which means that charge might not stick. Might be dismissed as he said-she-said without proof.

But this-the stabbing, the public attack-there’s no disputing my involvement in that. The cameras caught

everything. My face. The knife. The moment I lunged at Sabrina.

Even if I get the best lawyer in the world, there’s no defense for what’s on that footage.

I’m going to prison. The only question is for how long.

“Morgan. You have a phone call.”

I look up at the guard standing outside my cell. Her expression is neutral. Professional. Like I’m just another criminal instead of a person who

entire life is imploding.

“Who is it?”

“Didn’t say. You want it or not?”

I stand, my legs unsteady. “Yes.”

She leads me down the corridor to a bank of phones attached to the wall. Hands me the receiver.

I take a breath and lift it to my ear. “Hello?”

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