Chapter 1The Accused Attacker Changed Gender in Court

On the day of my wedding, I was assaulted by my fiancé’s best friend.

Afterward, everyone begged me to just let it go and sweep the whole nightmare under the rug.

"They grew up in the same sandbox. They've been thick as thieves since childhood. If you make a scene, how is Declan supposed to face his best friend?"

"Besides, you're a woman. If word gets out, your reputation will be dragged through the mud. Think about your future."

I blocked out every single word. I bypassed the gossip and dragged the attacker straight to court.

But on the day of the trial, right in front of the judge and a packed gallery, the defendant ripped open their dress shirt.

"Take a good look, Mrs. Croft. We are both women."

"Why don't you explain to the judge how exactly a woman managed to overpower and force herself on you?"

I stared at the completely flat chest, my mind flatlining.

But that day, in that dark room, the attacker absolutely had the physical anatomy of a man. I was sure of it.

The courtroom fell into a suffocating silence for three excruciating seconds.

Then, it erupted.

"It's a chick?"

"So she made the whole thing up?"

"I knew it sounded totally unhinged..."

Quinn stood in the defendant's stand. The shirt hung wide open, revealing tight red marks from a chest binder, the torso as flat as a sheet of paper.

Quinn made no effort to cover up. In fact, Quinn leaned slightly to the side, giving the judge an unobstructed view.

"Your Honor, Declan and I have been best buddies since we were kids. In his eyes, I'm just one of the guys."

A bitter smirk touched Quinn's lips. "The bride had a little too much champagne on her big day. She grabbed my arm and wouldn't stop rambling."

"I helped her to the VIP lounge so she could sleep it off, and I left before two minutes had even passed."

"I honestly have no idea why she would invent such a sick lie about me."

Quinn paused, and the edges of those eyes grew visibly red.

"Maybe it's because... Declan has always treated me so well?"

A fresh wave of murmurs crashed through the gallery.

"You've got to be kidding me. This is all over petty jealousy?"

"That is next level toxic. The defendant is literally a woman!"

"Some wives just can't stand their husbands having female friends..."

The judge slammed the gavel down hard.

"Order in the court."

He turned his gaze toward me, his eyes heavy with doubt.

"Plaintiff. Do you have a response to the defendant's statement?"

What did I have to respond to?

I opened my mouth, but the words withered on my tongue.

The memories of that day came flooding back like dark water. The sound of the lock clicking shut. Being pinned down against the velvet sofa. My head spinning from the spiked drink, the silhouette above me blurred into a terrifying shadow.

"You have such beautiful skin, Nora."

That was Quinn's voice. Whispering right against my ear.

I felt the weight. I felt the rough hands. And I felt that thing.

Ice cold. Hard. Forcing its way inside.

There was zero chance I was mistaken.

"That day..." I squeezed my hands into tight fists. "You had male anatomy."

Quinn blinked in mock surprise before letting out a soft, echoing laugh.

"What anatomy? I am a biological female. What exactly was I supposed to use..."

The sentence trailed off.

But the entire room caught the implication. A few people actually snickered.

"Plaintiff, present your evidence," the judge said, his brow deeply furrowed.

Evidence.

I had the medical report from the hospital. It clearly documented severe bruising and signs of forced entry.

But the report also stated that no traces of DNA were found.

At the time, I didn't think much of it. I just assumed Quinn had used protection.

Now, staring at that flat, scarred chest, the horrifying truth dawned on me.

That thing was never a human organ to begin with.

"I..."

"Your Honor."

Quinn's defense attorney shot up from his chair, cutting me off completely. "The defendant is female and physically incapable of committing the crime as described. If the plaintiff cannot provide hard evidence, this is a textbook case of perjury and malicious prosecution."

"We reserve the right to countersue."

Countersue.

Malicious prosecution.

Just like that, the victim became the criminal.

"Plaintiff?" The judge's voice echoed from above. "Do you have anything else to add?"

Every single pair of eyes in that room was glued to me.

Quinn was looking at me too.

Too calm. Too composed.

Not like a victim of a false accusation. But like a predator watching a trapped animal bleed out.

I drew in a shaky, desperate breath.

"Your Honor, I request a recess."

"I need time to submit additional evidence."

The moment those words left my lips, a man stood up from the front row of the gallery.

It was Declan.

"Your Honor, if I may speak."

The judge frowned. "And you are?"

"The plaintiff's husband." Declan hesitated, his voice thick with emotion. "And the defendant's oldest friend."

The entire courtroom went dead silent.