Chapter 4 - The Sound of Glass Breaking
“What is this, Mr. Hartwell?” Judge Wallace asked, extending her hand.
The bailiff walked over, took the paper from Daniel, and carried it to the bench.
“That, Your Honor,” Daniel said, his voice ringing clearly in the quiet room, “is a practice sheet. It appears someone spent a great deal of time learning how to forge my client’s signature.”
Sterling shot to his feet. “Objection! This is absurd! A cheap parlor trick—”
“And,” Daniel interrupted, his volume rising just enough to drown Sterling out, “attached to that forgery practice is a handwritten note. From Margaret Vance. Directed to a 'Richard'.”
Daniel turned slowly, his eyes locking onto Sterling.
“Instructing him to ensure the forgery matches my client's tax returns. Instructing him to burn the evidence.”
Silence fell over the courtroom. Heavy. Suffocating.
It was the silence of a bomb dropping, before the shockwave hits.
“Let me see that,” Sterling demanded, his voice suddenly lacking its smooth polish. He stepped out from behind his table.
“Step back, Counselor!” Judge Wallace barked.
Her voice cracked like a whip. Sterling froze in his tracks.
The judge pulled her reading glasses down her nose. She stared at the thick paper. She stared at the green ink on the Post-it note. Then, she picked up the official custody agreement Sterling had submitted earlier.
She placed them side by side.
Clarabel held Lily against her chest. The baby was breathing softly, a gentle rhythm against the chaotic pounding of Clarabel’s heart.
Julian turned in his chair. He looked at his mother.
“Mother?” Julian whispered. It wasn't a question. It was a plea. He wanted her to fix it. He had always relied on her to fix his messes.
Margaret did not look at him. She stared straight ahead, her jaw locked, a vein throbbing at her temple.
Sabrina pulled her hand away from Julian’s arm. The subtle movement was not missed by Clarabel. The rats were already assessing the distance to the water.
“Mr. Sterling,” Judge Wallace said softly.
It was a dangerous softness.
“Do you have an explanation as to why opposing counsel is in possession of a document that appears to implicate you and the respondent's mother in a felony conspiracy to commit fraud and perjury in my courtroom?”
“Your Honor, I—I have never seen that document in my life!” Sterling stammered. The smooth, expensive lawyer was sweating. “It’s a fabrication! Mrs. Vance must have created it to—”
“Created it?” Daniel laughed. It was a harsh, unforgiving sound. “With Margaret Vance’s custom-ordered cream cardstock? With her signature green fountain pen? We request immediate impoundment of this document for forensic ink analysis, Your Honor. And we request that Margaret Vance be called to the stand.”
“You cannot call her, she is not a party to this suit!” Sterling shouted.
“She is when she submits forged contracts to steal a child!” Daniel roared back.
“Enough!” Judge Wallace slammed her gavel. The loud CRACK made Lily jump and let out a sharp cry.
Clarabel stood up, rocking the baby, refusing to be intimidated. She looked at Julian.
The arrogance was gone from his face. The charcoal suit suddenly looked too big for him. He was a boy who had let his mother do his dirty work, and now the bill had come due.
“Bailiff,” Judge Wallace said, her eyes deadlocked on Sterling. “Take possession of both documents. They are to be sealed in evidence bags immediately.”
She looked up at the gallery.
“Mrs. Margaret Vance. You are instructed not to leave this building.”
Margaret stood up. Pride was a disease in her blood, and it was terminal.
“I will not be spoken to like a common criminal by a civil servant,” Margaret sneered, her oyster silk rustling. “That girl is unstable. She is unfit for our bloodline. Whatever was done, was done to protect my grandson—granddaughter.”
She couldn't even remember the child’s gender.
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Clarabel felt a cold, hard knot of anger solidify in her chest. She had been afraid of this woman for three years. Now, she just pitied her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Vance,” Daniel said smoothly. “Your Honor, please let the record reflect that Margaret Vance just admitted to 'whatever was done' on the record.”
