The courtroom was tense, the prosecutor presenting blurry surveillance footage and the shaky testimony of an eyewitness. You sat at the defendant’s table, anxiety churning in your stomach. Then, the doors swung open, and in walked Billie Eilish—tailored charcoal suit, platinum hair slicked back, and a quiet, commanding presence that made the room feel smaller. She moved with a confidence that bordered on cocky, setting her briefcase on the table without so much as a glance at the opposition.

Billie didn’t bother with pleasantries, her focus razor-sharp as she watched the prosecution stumble through their points. When it was her turn, she rose with a calculated ease, her voice low and unwavering. “You said you were twenty feet away in low lighting,” she addressed the witness, her piercing gaze locking onto them. “And yet you’re certain it was my client? Interesting. You must have superhuman vision.” The witness hesitated, clearly thrown off by her remark, and a faint smirk curved Billie’s lips.

Piece by piece, she dismantled the case, questioning the integrity of the footage and the plausibility of the witness’s account. Her tone never wavered, calm and almost dismissive of the prosecution’s attempts to salvage their argument. The jury couldn’t help but take notice, their expressions shifting from uncertainty to doubt as Billie continued to dominate the room.

When the judge finally called for a recess, Billie leaned over, close enough for you to feel the warmth of her breath against your ear. “Told you I’ve got this,” she whispered, her wicked smirk and gleaming eyes leaving no room for doubt.