Chapter 9 - The Trial of Daniel Vane
The courtroom of the Federal District Court was packed to capacity. Reporters, financial analysts, and curious onlookers spilled into the aisles, all waiting for the climax of the year's most scandalous white-collar trial.
Daniel sat at the defense table, flanked by two public defenders who looked thoroughly exhausted by his arrogance. He didn't look like the charismatic, untouchable executive he once was. His skin was pale, his shoulders hunched under the weight of twelve federal felony counts.
When Claire walked into the gallery, supported by Marcus and Julian, the courtroom murmur died instantly. Every eye turned to watch her take a seat in the front row.
Daniel turned his head slowly. Their eyes met across the polished mahogany barrier. For a split second, it was just like that moment at the hotel ledge—the dust in the air, the roar of the rotors, the cold calculation in his eyes.
Except this time, he wasn't looking down at her from a position of power. He was looking up from the bottom of a crater of his own making.
Claire didn't flinch. She didn't smile. She simply held his gaze with calm, unshakeable dignity until he turned back around, his hands gripping the edges of the defense table until his knuckles turned white.
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The judge’s gavel struck the sound block with a sharp, echoing crack.
"The court is now in session..."
