Chapter 4 - Midnight at the Courthouse
The marble halls of the Suffolk County Courthouse echoed with the hollow sound of Marco’s and Elena’s footsteps as they rushed through the grand entrance. The rain outside had turned into a torrential storm, lashing against the massive stained-glass dome overhead.
At the registrar’s desk, a tired-looking night clerk was packing up his files.
"Excuse me," Marco said, slamming his hand onto the mahogany counter. "Emergency probate filing. Celeste Whitmore. Where is Judge Harrison?"
The clerk blinked, looking up nervously at Marco’s towering, rain-soaked frame and the intense woman standing beside him. "Judge Harrison’s chambers, third floor, but—sir, you can’t go back there without an appointment—"
Marco was already sprinting toward the grand marble staircase, Elena right at his heels.
As they rounded the corner of the third-floor corridor, they saw her.
Celeste Whitmore was standing outside the double mahogany doors of the judge's chambers. She had changed out of her champagne-gold reception gown into a sharp, tailored ivory pantsuit that looked like armor. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, and a triumphant smirk played on her lips as she held a stamped folder against her chest.
When she saw Marco and Elena rounding the corner, her smile widened into something venomous.
"Too late, Marco," Celeste called out, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "Judge Harrison just signed the emergency asset freeze. As of right now, forty percent of the DeLuca holdings are under my temporary receivership."
Marco stopped dead in his tracks, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. "You manipulative bitch. You knew about Malcolm’s scheme all along."
Celeste laughed, a high, musical sound devoid of any warmth. "Of course I did. Do you honestly think I would marry a man whose family treats mine like second-class citizens without a backup plan? Your mother is a dying old woman, and you’re a arrogant fool who thought he could discard me in front of two hundred people."
She took a step closer, waving the stamped document like a flag of victory. "You humiliated me at my own wedding reception. You made me a laughingstock on social media—half of Boston has already memes of me holding that ridiculous wig. This is my revenge, Marco. And you can't undo a judge's signature."
Elena stepped past Marco.
Her burgundy uniform jacket was still damp, her copper hair slightly windswept, but there was an absolute stillness about her that made Celeste’s smile falter for a fraction of a second.
"Who are you again?" Celeste sneer-asked, looking Elena up and down with undisguised contempt. "Ah, right. The hired help. Did Marco hire you to wipe his tears after I ruined his life?"
"I’m the person who watched Sofia DeLuca fight stage-four cancer while your family was busy trying to embezzle funds from her charitable foundation," Elena said quietly.
Celeste’s eyes flashed. "What are you talking about?"
Elena reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, heavy black leather ledger—the one she had quietly lifted from Malcolm’s study while Marco was subduing him in the warehouse. She flipped it open to a marked page.
"Malcolm’s personal financial logs," Elena said, her voice ringing clear and steady down the marble hallway. "Signed by your mother’s estate manager. It details how the Whitmore family systematically drained three million dollars from Sofia’s medical trust fund over the last four years to cover your mounting gambling debts and equestrian fees, Celeste."
Celeste went completely pale. "That’s—that’s a lie. Those are forged documents!"
"Are they?"
A deep, resonant voice echoed from down the hallway.
Judge Harrison stepped out of his chambers, holding a red pen in his hand. He looked down at the stamped folder in Celeste’s trembling hands, then at Marco and Elena.
"Miss Whitmore," the judge said coldly, his face expressionless. "My clerk just received an emergency federal affidavit from the state attorney general’s office regarding the exact trust account referenced in your petition. Furthermore, it appears your father failed to disclose ongoing criminal investigations into corporate fraud when requesting this emergency injunction."
Celeste’s breath caught in her throat. "Your Honor, that’s irrelevant to the civil—"
May you like
"It is entirely relevant," Judge Harrison interrupted, his voice booming through the corridor. "The court’s signature was obtained under false pretenses and fraudulent misrepresentation of liquid assets. Consider this injunction immediately null and void."
He reached out, plucked the stamped folder straight out of Celeste’s paralyzed hands, and walked back into his chambers, the heavy doors clicking shut with a finality that sounded like a gunshot.
