Dancing On My Own

Chapter 9: First Hearing!

The courtroom was packed, though this was not a trial—merely a preliminary hearing. Yet curiosity filled every bench, colleagues and reporters alike hungry for the drama of a barrister defending her own divorce.

Ismene stood at counsel’s table, every muscle honed to stillness. She wore her armor in the form of a tailored black suit, her hair pinned with precision. Outwardly, she was composed. Inwardly, her pulse pounded, but she had long ago learned how to weaponize nerves into sharp focus.

Across the aisle, Jared sat with his interim counsel, an arrogant young barrister from Melbourne whose smirk betrayed both overconfidence and inexperience. Jared, as always, looked polished—charming, even. To the untrained eye, he was the aggrieved husband, calm in the face of his wife’s aggression.

The judge entered, and the room rose.

“This court recognizes the matter of Morgan v. Sankare,” the clerk announced.

Hearing her own name spoken as a respondent rather than counsel sent a chill through her. Still, she kept her eyes forward, shoulders squared.

The judge looked from one table to the other. “This is, as I understand, a preliminary matter of jurisdiction. Mr. Morgan has filed in Minnesota. Ms. Sankare wishes to proceed here in Victoria. We will hear arguments.”

The opposing counsel rose. His voice was smooth, rehearsed. “Your Honour, the petitioner has substantial ties to Minnesota. His business holdings, his residency, his family connections—all situate this case firmly within U.S. jurisdiction. To litigate here would be inconvenient and inequitable.”

Ismene rose slowly, every movement deliberate. “Your Honour, inconvenience does not erase equity. The marriage was domiciled here in Melbourne for the majority of its duration. Assets were acquired jointly on Australian soil. To uproot this matter to Minnesota is not only unnecessary but calculated. My husband seeks home-field advantage, not fairness.”

The judge raised an eyebrow. “You intend to represent yourself, Ms. Sankare?”

“Yes, Your Honour,” she said evenly.

A ripple of murmurs swept the gallery. Jared’s counsel smirked, but Ismene ignored it.

The judge leaned forward. “That is… unusual. I would advise caution. But proceed.”

She launched into her argument, voice controlled but sharp, dissecting Jared’s petition line by line. She anticipated every objection, preempted every point, and forced opposing counsel onto the defensive. Her words cut with surgical precision, honed from years of cross-examining witnesses who thought they could outwit her.

For a brief moment, she felt alive—this was her arena, her battlefield.

But when she glanced at Jared, she saw something chilling. He wasn’t rattled. He wasn’t defeated. He was smiling.

He wanted this fight.

And he was ready for the long game.