The woman ignored him entirely, never once glancing at Gianna or the crowd that was already busy labeling her as desperate or theatrical. She walked to her table and stood behind it, her hand resting gently on the shoulders of the two boys who remained like silent sentinels by her side.
“Ma’am, you are late,” Judge Whitfield said, his voice measured but stern. She looked up at him with eyes that were clear and steady, showing no trace of the tears or panic that the gallery had been hoping to see.
“I am here now, Your Honor,” she said calmly. “And my children needed to be here to see this.”
Gianna laughed again, calling the situation ridiculous and asking who would bring kids to a hearing like this. Judge Whitfield’s gaze snapped to her with enough intensity to instantly wipe the smile from her face.
“One more interruption from you, Ms. Rossi, and you will be escorted out by the bailiff,” the judge warned before turning back to the case. Dominic’s jaw tightened at the public rebuke, but he remained silent as his attorney rose to speak.