Chapter 8
The courtroom was larger than I expected,
with dark oak wood paneling lining the walls and a massive judicial crest hanging behind the bench.
As I walked inside,
Scott immediately turned his head from the plaintiff's table,
a smug,
condescending grin plastered across his face.
He looked over at me,
his eyes scanning my tailored suit with a brief flash of surprise,
before his expression hardened back into arrogance.
Kayla was sitting directly behind him in the gallery,
wearing a tight designer dress that accentuated her small baby bump,
and she gave me a small,
mocking wave with her manicured fingers.
I ignored them both completely,
walking with absolute grace and poise to the defense table on the right side of the room.
Jerome sat down beside me,
opening his briefcase with a deliberate,
professional calmness,
and began arranging our documents on the table.
Across the aisle,
Scott's lawyer,
Marcus Vance,
was adjusting his expensive silk tie,
looking like a man who expected an easy victory.
He leaned over to Scott,
whispering something in his ear that caused Scott to chuckle softly and shake his head.
I glanced around the room,
my eyes searching the back rows of the gallery,
and I spot an older man sitting quietly in the corner.
He was dressed in a conservative,
immaculate charcoal suit,
holding a thick leather folder on his lap,
and he caught my eye with a subtle,
respectful nod.
It was Mr. Harrison,
the sole executor of the estate of Scott's late grandmother,
the gatekeeper of the seven point three million dollars.
He was here to witness the proceedings firsthand,
just as the late matriarch had requested in her final confidential instructions.
Scott had no idea who the man was,
having never bothered to meet the executor in person,
instead only communicating through brief,
impatient emails about the money.
"All rise for the Honorable Judge Evelyn Vance,"
the bailiff's voice boomed through the room,
shattering the tense silence.
Everyone stood up immediately as the judge,
a stern-looking woman with sharp gray hair and piercing eyes,
entered from the side door.
She took her seat on the elevated bench,
adjusting her black robes,
and looked down at the paperwork in front of her.
"Case number 4022,
Scott Henderson versus Avery Collins,"
the judge announced,
her voice ringing clearly through the microphone.
"This is a petition for the dissolution of marriage and division of marital assets,"
she stated,
looking over her glasses at the two legal teams.
"Are both parties ready to proceed?"
she inquired,
her tone thoroughly professional.
"The plaintiff is ready,
Your Honor,"
Marcus Vance stood up smoothly,
offering a polished,
practiced smile to the bench.
"We have drafted a comprehensive settlement agreement,"
Vance explained,
holding up a thick stack of papers,
"which we believe is entirely fair and equitable to both sides."
"My client wishes to expedite this process,"
he added,
glaring slightly in my direction,
"as the marriage has been irretrievably broken for a significant period of time."
"The defense is also ready,
Your Honor,"
Jerome stood up calmly,
his voice resonant and completely steady.
"However,
we do not agree with the plaintiff's assessment of fairness,"
Jerome stated firmly,
"and we have several critical matters to bring to the court's attention before any decree is signed."
Scott let out a quiet,
audible groan of annoyance from his table,
rolling his eyes dramatically at the judge.
"Your Honor,"
Scott spoke out out of turn,
his arrogance overriding his legal manners,
"she is just trying to stall the process to extort money from my family."
The judge's eyes snapped sharply toward Scott,
her brow furrowing in deep disapproval at his outburst.
"Mr. Henderson,
you will speak only when spoken to by this court,"
Judge Vance warned him coldly,
"one more outburst like that and you will be held in contempt."
Scott's face flushed red with embarrassment,
and his lawyer quickly pulled him down by his sleeve,
whispering a harsh warning into his ear.
"Please proceed,
Mr. Jerome,"
the judge directed,
turning her attention away from the embarrassed plaintiff.
I leaned back slightly in my chair,
May you like
feeling a wonderful surge of confidence,
knowing that the opening act of his destruction had officially begun.
