The Southern District courthouse was cold.
Not the temperature — the quality. Gray stone and high ceilings and the particular silence of a building where consequences were handed down daily and had stopped being remarkable to everyone except the people receiving them.
Aria had imagined this moment for five years. She had not imagined it would feel this quiet.
They sat on opposite sides of the hearing room.
Ethan's legal team to the left — Clara Reyes at the front, four associates behind her, the documentation package organized into three labeled binders. Aria beside Ethan, her back straight, her hands still in her lap.
Richard Cole to the right. Three attorneys. Forty years of resources. The composed expression of a man who had survived difficult rooms before and expected to survive t
