Chapter 3 - The Broken Mask
The silence hung like poison in the room.
Daniel’s head whipped around, his eyes wild with terror as he stared at Lauren. “Lauren, shut up!” he hissed, completely forgetting the judge, the microphones, and his attorney.
Lauren froze, realizing too late what had spilled past her lips. Her manicured hand flew to her throat, the ivory leather bag slipping from her fingers and hitting the tile floor with a dull thud.
Judge Harrow didn’t move. Her posture was carved from granite. She slowly set her fountain pen down on the mahogany desk, her eyes fixed entirely on Daniel Mercer.
“The family trust,” Judge Harrow repeated, her voice deceptively calm. “Counselor Pike... would you like to enlighten the court as to why your client failed to disclose an active family trust in his sworn financial affidavits?”
Pike was visibly trembling. “Your Honor, my client... there appears to have been an administrative oversight regarding contingent future expectancies—”
“Do not insult my intelligence, Mr. Pike,” Judge Harrow cut him off ruthlessly. “Perjury is not an administrative oversight.” She turned to the bailiff. “Remove Miss Vale from this courtroom immediately. She may wait in the public concourse.”
“Daniel!” Lauren gasped as a stone-faced deputy gripped her arm and ushered her toward the heavy double doors. She cast a venomous look at Claire as she was marched out. “You’re ruining everything, Claire! Everything!”
The heavy doors clicked shut behind her.
Claire’s heart was hammering against her ribs so violently she could hear it in her throat. She looked at Daniel. The confident, smooth-talking executive was gone. In his place sat a cornered, panicked animal, sweating through the collar she had so often ironed for him.
“We will take a thirty-minute recess,” Judge Harrow announced, rising from her bench. Her gaze swept over Daniel like an executioner’s axe. “When we reconvene, Mr. Mercer, you will produce the legal documents pertaining to this trust, or you will spend the weekend contemplating transparency in the county jail.”
With another strike of the gavel, the judge vanished into her chambers.
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Miriam turned to Claire, her silver-streaked hair gleaming under the lights, a fierce, predator’s smile touching her lips. “Pack up the stroller, Claire. We just found the smoking gun.”
***
