Henderson looked at the plaintiff’s table, his expression unchanging. “Mr. Ford, good to see you again.”
“And you, Your Honor,” Garrison said, standing smoothly. His movements were practiced, almost theatrical. “We are ready to proceed.”The judge turned his gaze to my table. His frown deepened, the lines around his mouth carving themselves into permanent disapproval.
I stood up slowly. My legs felt like lead, my dress suddenly too tight around my chest. I could feel every pair of eyes in the room on me—judging, pitying, waiting for me to break.
“Mrs. Simmons,” Judge Henderson said, his voice echoing slightly in the high-ceilinged room. “I see you are alone. Are you expecting counsel?”I cleared my throat. My voice came out soft, trembling slightly, betraying the terror clawing at my chest. “I… I am, Your Honor. She should be here any minute.”
Keith let out a loud, theatrical scoff. He covered his mouth with his hand, but the sound was unmistakable—a laugh disguised as a cough, dripping with contempt.
