Chapter 4: Praise Wrapped In Poison
1506 Words
The judge blinked, appearing confused and flustered for a moment before quickly recovering. She banged her gavel and commanded, “Silence! I don’t want to hear any noise in this court.” With a subtle nod toward the lawyers, she urged them to remain professional.
“The defendant may continue,” the judge ordered.
Gregory Vane cleared his throat and resumed in a measured tone. “Your Honor, Miss Monroe, feelings don’t hold up in court, facts do. If these warnings were serious, why didn’t your clients put them in writing?” His voice carried a hint of lingering tension, but his posture and words were impeccably controlled as if he had never been rattled.
Elara quickly recovered from her shock and composed herself. “Your Honor, I have new evidence.”
She passed a document to the bailiff, who handed it to the judge. “This is a leaked internal memo from Reid Enterprises, dated three weeks before the accident. It outlines a directive from senior management to expedite the project at all costs due to an upcoming investor inspection.”
The judge skimmed it.
Vane reached for his copy, jaw clenching.
“Attached are messages between project managers and subcontractors,” Elara continued, voice steady but fueled by something deeper. “In those messages, multiple concerns were raised about pouring concrete too quickly, skipping inspection checks, and pushing through weather delays just to meet a rushed deadline.”
She turned to the judge. “Your Honor, this wasn’t just neglect. It was a deliberate push to meet a corporate timeline, one that compromised safety protocols.”
Vane finally spoke. “Objection. This evidence is speculative and obtained through unofficial channels—”
Elara cut in. “It’s not speculative. The project supervisor who leaked it is willing to testify anonymously, for now, due to fear of retaliation. But his statements match the timeline of events leading up to the collapse.”
Vane’s face darkened. “Anonymous testimony can’t be verified—”
“But the messages can,” she snapped. “Phone records, timestamps, emails. Do you want facts? We have them. You can spin this all you want, but this memo is real. Your client gambled with people’s lives to impress investors, he doesn't value people's live because he's rich.” she spat.
A flash of fury ignited in Xavier’s eyes. For a split second, his face hardened, and his jaw clenched imperceptibly, betraying the controlled storm beneath his calm exterior. Then he leaned back, exuding an icy detachment as if her accusation were just another inconvenience, his eyes never leaving Elara’s.
Elara could feel his gaze on her back. Her heart pounded as she met his eyes, a mixture of defiance and something else, something she couldn’t quite name.
Before the tension could settle, Elara called her final witness to the stand, a lanky man in his early forties, his nervous glances betraying a reluctance to be there.
“Please state your name for the court,” Elara said.
“Jared Cole,” he replied, voice low.
“You worked as a site supervisor for Reid Enterprises’ construction project, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you raised concerns about the safety of the foundation before the accident?”
Jared hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I did. I sent emails. I told my superiors it wasn’t safe to pour with the concrete not fully set.”
Elara stepped closer. “What was the response?”
“They told me to fall in line. Said we had investors coming in two weeks and any delay would be ‘unacceptable.’”
He glanced toward Xavier, then quickly looked away.
Gregory Vane stood sharply. “Mr. Cole, were you ever threatened directly? Or told you’d be fired if you didn’t comply?”
Jared shifted uncomfortably. “Not in so many words—”
“So no direct threats,” Vane said quickly, cutting him off. “And you remained employed until the incident?”
“Yes, but—”
“And you’re here under the promise of anonymity and legal protection, correct?”
“Yes.”
Vane’s lips curved into a sharp smile. “So, a protected witness with no concrete threats and no official whistleblower complaint. Interesting.”
Elara stepped in again. “He raised concerns. He was ignored. People died.”
Vane opened his mouth to retort, but the judge slammed her gavel. “That’s enough
The courtroom fell into a strained silence.
The judge sighed, clearly exhausted by the back and forth. “I will not allow this to descend into personal attacks or emotional manipulation. We’ve heard enough for today.”
She straightened, her voice growing firmer. “The court is adjourned until the final hearing next week. I expect both parties to come fully prepared. No surprises. This court will not tolerate any further delays.”
Elara exchanged a glance with Jared, her chest tight. Vane returned to his seat, lips thin with frustration.
As the judge rose and exited through the heavy wooden door, the courtroom buzzed back to life like a shaken beehive. The once-controlled silence unraveled into hushed murmurs and exchanged glances.
The bailiff called out firmly, “Court is adjourned,” but the words barely cut through the rising tension.
Reporters in the back leaned toward one another, whispering excitedly and jotting frantic notes.
And Xavier? He rose silently, adjusted his cufflinks, and walked out without saying a word but not before casting one last unreadable glance at her.
LATER THAT NIGHT – DOWNTOWN BAR, 10:47 PM
The bar was low-lit and sleek, the kind of place where no one asked questions and the whiskey cost more than most meals. Elara sat in a corner booth, nursing her drink, she didn't come here to brood. She came here to breathe. The courtroom drama still rang in her head. She needed space, air, a moment to think.
But peace wasn’t what walked in next.
The door opened, and the atmosphere shifted. Heads turned, even if they didn’t recognize him. They felt it.
Xavier Reid.
No tie. Black shirt, crisp and slightly open at the collar. He moved like he owned the building, like everything in it was beneath his notice, including her.
He spotted her in seconds.
Elara blinked. “Seriously?”
Without a word, he strode over, pulled out the seat across from her, and sat down like he was invited.
She straightened, defensive already. “Are you stalking me now, Mr. Reid?”
He didn’t smile. Just leaned back, cool and unreadable, eyes never leaving hers.
“If I were stalking you, you wouldn’t know I was here.”
The air thickened.
Elara gripped her glass. “You think this is funny? After what happened in court—”
“I think you’re too smart to mistake courtroom theatrics for truth,” he cut in smoothly. His voice was low, and calm, but carried the weight of command.
She frowned. “Jared Cole’s testimony—”
“Was emotional,” Xavier interrupted. “Conveniently timed. And possibly manipulated.”
“You think I manipulated him?”
He shrugged. “You’re ambitious. Determined. You’d do what it takes.”
Her jaw clenched. “So would you. That’s why people died.”
His gaze darkened slightly. “Be careful with accusations, Miss Monroe. You might win a battle in court, but lose something much bigger outside it.”
The threat was subtle. Elegant. Delivered like a gentleman offering wine with poison beneath.
Elara leaned in, eyes flashing. “Is that how you sleep at night? Justify everything behind clever words and clean suits?”
Xavier’s smirk was cold. “I sleep just fine. Power has that effect.”
A pause. Then, with a lazy sip of his drink, he added, “But you.... you’re interesting. I underestimated you.”
Her heart beat faster. Not from flattery. From the way he said it. Like a predator revising his strategy.
“I’m not here to impress you,” she said.
“I didn’t say you were.” He set his glass down with precision. “But don’t let anger cloud your judgment. You’re standing in a storm you don’t understand yet. And when it hits full force, righteousness won’t be enough.”
With that, he rose to his feet.
Xavier paused, adjusting his cufflink with cool precision. His eyes scanned her face, unreadable and steady, then dropped briefly to the wine in her hand before returning to meet her gaze.
“Not bad,” he said, voice low and composed, with a trace of something that might’ve been amusement, or respect. “If we’d met under different circumstances, I might’ve offered you a position. I admire smart people. Especially the dangerous kind.”
And then—he left.
Elara remained rooted in place as he walked out, leaving behind the scent of expensive cologne, a half-finished drink, and a silence that buzzed in her chest like electricity. Her heart thudded, unsure whether she’d just been praised, warned… or marked.
- Writer
