Aloe's POV
The family court building felt nothing like the imposing federal courthouse where bigger legal battles played out. This was smaller, more intimate, designed for the personal tragedies of divorce and custody rather than the impersonal drama of criminal proceedings.
Wakes sat across the courtroom with his legal team—three expensive attorneys in suits that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. He looked composed, successful, exactly like the kind of father any judge would trust with a child.
Which was exactly the problem.
"Remember," my attorney Rachel Morrison whispered, "stay calm, answer honestly, don't let him provoke you into emotional responses. This judge has seen manipulation tactics before."
Judge Patricia Brennan was in her sixties, with the kind of no-
