Anabella Clayton's POV:
The judge's gaze swept across the room, cold and clinical.
"Prepare for the hearing. Remove the child from the premises," he commanded with practiced authority.
Bowden gave Analia a sharp nod. "Take Dexter outside and wait for me."
Dexter kept his head bowed, his spirit visibly crushed. As Analia led him away, his steps were heavy and sluggish, yet he didn't cast a single backward glance at me.
A sudden, sickening realization hit me, making me gasp for air.
Bowden never intended for Dexter to testify. This wasn't about the boy's voice—it was about the performance.
He had set the stage for Dexter and me to "play our parts" at the exact time and place where the judge would witness the most damning, wordless evidence possible: a son who recoiled from his mother
