The room seemed to shrink as the fluorescent lights overhead hummed with a low, irritating frequency. Someone in the gallery coughed, but the sound died away quickly when the judge’s hands tightened around a specific document.
“Bailiff, I want you to seal this courtroom immediately,” the judge said with a voice that was low but incredibly firm. Harrison’s arrogant smile disappeared instantly, and my heart began to race against my chest.
The judge was looking at me with a sense of recognition that no one else in the room could possibly understand. He said my full name slowly as if each syllable carried a weight that had been forgotten by everyone else.
“Sarah Jane Miller Prescott,” he announced while looking over his spectacles at the man sitting across from me. Harrison’s head snapped toward the bench as he tried to process why the judge was using my maiden name.
Tiffany let go of Harrison’s arm and stepped back as if she sensed the sudden change in the atmosphere. For the last six years, Harrison had called me Sarah when he wanted to sound affectionate and nothing at all when he wanted to make me feel small.