My cheek was still throbbing with pain, and I felt the baby kick hard against my hand. The judge noticed the movement, and for a fleeting second, his stern expression softened into something that looked like genuine empathy.
“Mrs. Prescott, did you personally submit this supplemental evidence packet to my chambers this morning?” he asked gently. I whispered that I did not know because my attorney had been the one responsible for the filings.
I explained that Simon Fletcher was supposed to be there, but he had failed to appear at the designated time. Harrison let out a mocking laugh and pointed out that my confusion was exactly what he had been trying to warn the court about.
The judge turned sharply toward him and warned that one more interruption would lead to a formal charge of contempt. Harrison finally closed his mouth, and for the first time in my life, I saw a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes.
The judge lifted the paper and explained that the packet had been delivered by a private courier at eight o’clock that morning. It contained medical records, bank statements, corporate contracts, and a sworn affidavit from Simon Fletcher himself.