Chapter 4 - Whispers of the Dead
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Samuel Ortega stood up with unhurried authority.
"Your Honor, we are prepared to present irrefutable evidence of systematic fraud, forgery, and grand larceny," Samuel stated clearly. "Including document metadata, forensic ink analysis, and bank surveillance footage. But before we begin, I must bring an urgent matter of stolen physical property to the court's attention."
Samuel pointed directly across the room at Celeste Arden.
"The woman sitting beside the respondent, Ms. Celeste Arden, is currently wearing a pair of antique pearl earrings that were stolen directly from a locked safe inside my client's private Breckenridge cabin," Samuel declared. "A safe to which only Mr. Caldwell held the secondary combination."
A collective murmur rippled through the gallery. Several journalists in the back row sat up straighter, their pens moving frantically over their pads.
Preston’s attorney shot a sharp glance at Celeste, but Celeste merely tossed her head back and let out a light, careless laugh. It was a brief, cutting sound that sliced straight through the solemn dignity of the courtroom.
"This is ridiculous," Celeste said, not even bothering to lower her voice. "Preston gave these to me weeks ago as a personal gift."
Judge Holloway’s gavel struck the wooden block with a loud, crackling BANG.
"Ms. Arden!" Judge Holloway warned, her eyes flashing with ice. "You will refrain from speaking unless you are called to the witness stand, or I will have you removed for contempt."
Celeste tilted her head, her smile vanishing, but her gaze locked onto Nora. Leaning slightly across the wooden divider, she locked eyes with the pregnant woman sitting just a few feet away.
"Your mother is dead, Nora," Celeste whispered softly, her voice carrying just enough venom for Nora to hear. "And your husband is mine. After today, the cabin, the accounts, and Preston belong to people who actually know how to keep them."
A suffocating pressure seized Nora’s chest. The air in her lungs felt like liquid fire. For months, this was exactly how Preston had driven her to the edge—provoking her in private, whispering cruelties when no one else was listening, and then pointing at her tears as proof that she was insane.
Don't break, Nora told herself, gripping the fabric of her dress beneath the table until her knuckles turned white. Do not give them the scene they built this trap for.
May you like
Nora took a deep, shuddering breath, looked directly at Judge Holloway, and opened the thin brown folder resting on her lap.
"Your Honor," Nora said, her voice dropping all traces of fear, replaced by an eerie, unbreakable calm. "I am ready to present the evidence."
