Charis
"We have our ans," the lead lawyer answered quickly, dismissing my concern. My mind flashed back to seeing Elena yesterday at the pack house, and I wondered if Elena was the ’ans’.
I turned back to the conversation, not before catching Isolde’s gaze on .
She had an unfamiliar twinkle in her eyes, and for a mont I could almost swear her lips curved into a smile, but then she smiled and looked away.
"Miss Greye, did you hear a word I was saying?" the lead lawyer asked. I turned to him, offering him a placating smile.
"Sorry, I got distracted for a mont."
"It’s fine," he nodded. "I was saying that your father’s end goal is to get you to co ho, and that would make him ignore anything other than what would be instruntal in getting you to co ho. He’s going to try to do a lot of emotional blackmail, but you must stand your ground. Unless, of course, you want to return ho."
"No!" I shook my head. "Don’t worry, I’m willing to do as you have suggested and also, I am ready to give an account of what happened yesterday. I know there’s already a witness, but I feel like I am the best person to talk about it."
"Won’t it be uncomfortable for you? Even traumatising?" the lawyer asked.
"No!" I shook my head. "My father needs to be held accountable. I want the world to know the kind of person he is.
The lawyers looked amongst themselves, nodding. "I think the judge would be swayed if you tell the story yourself, but it is important to convey so emotions alongside it, else the opposing counsel would argue to have it dismissed. Usually, victims of abuse find it difficult to testify."
"I know," I nodded. "I’ll bear that in mind."
Another lawyer spoke up, a younger man with glasses. "There’s one more complication. The Academy has brought in a character witness. Soone willing to testify about your behaviour while enrolled as a male student."
"Who?" I asked.
"A student nad Marcus Webb."
My heart sank. Marcus. The sa Marcus, I’d rejected just last night.
"What will he say?" I asked quietly.
The lawyer consulted his tablet. "According to his preliminary statent, he plans to testify that you were deceitful, manipulative, and used your male disguise to gain access to spaces and relationships you otherwise wouldn’t have had access to."
Isolde’s expression darkened. "That little—"
"It’s okay," I interrupted, though my chest felt tight. "He’s hurt. I understand why he’d want to hurt back."
"Understanding doesn’t make it okay," Isolde said sharply. "We’ll discredit his testimony."
"How?"
The lead lawyer smiled thinly. "We’ll point out that he has a personal grudge against you. His testimony is motivated by romantic rejection rather than objective observation. It’ll undermine his credibility."
I felt awful about it, but I nodded. "Okay."
"One more thing," the youngest lawyer said, a woman who’d been quiet until now. "There’s been a last-minute addition to the witness list. Soone filed to testify this morning."
"Who?" Isolde asked.
The lawyer checked her phone. "A woman nad Elena ."
Rhett’s mother. The woman who was working with Isolde. What was she planning to testify about?
Isolde’s expression didn’t change, but I saw sothing flicker in her eyes. Satisfaction, maybe.
"Interesting," Isolde said smoothly. "What’s her testimony about?"
"It’s sealed," the lawyer said. "The judge granted her privacy protection due to the sensitive nature of her statent. We won’t know what she’s planning to say until she takes the stand."
My mind was racing. Elena was Isolde’s pawn. Whatever she was planning to say, it was part of Isolde’s larger plan. But what was it? What could Elena possibly testify about that is related to my case?
"We should head inside," the lead lawyer said, checking her watch. "Court starts in ten minutes."
We started walking toward the entrance. The courthouse was an old building with marble steps and columns that gave it an imposing appearance. People stread in and out—lawyers, defendants, families, reporters.
As we climbed the steps, I felt soone watching . I turned and scanned the crowd.
That’s when I saw him.
Standing at the edge of the crowd, partially hidden behind a column, was Kael. He’d co back. He gave a subtle nod, then lted back into the crowd.
At least I’d have him in there with .
We passed through security—tal detectors, bag searches, the usual courthouse protocols. Then we walked down a long hallway with high ceilings and portraits of stern-looking judges from decades past.
We reached Courtroom 3 B. The doors were heavy wood with brass handles.
Isolde squeezed my hand. "Ready?"
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready.
The lead lawyer pushed open the doors.
The courtroom was already filling with people. I saw the Academy’s legal team on one side—four lawyers in dark suits, all looking confident. I saw Headmistress Vale sitting in the gallery, her expression unreadable.
And sitting in the front row of the audience, looking pale and determined, was my mother. Eva.
She saw and stood up slightly, like she wanted to co to . But then she sat back down, her hands twisting in her lap.
A few rows behind her, I saw my father. Silas. He was staring at with such intense hatred that I felt it like a physical force. His wife—Eva—kept glancing at him nervously, like she was afraid he’d explode again.
Then I saw Marcus. He sat on the opposite side, near the Academy’s lawyers. When our eyes t, he looked away quickly.
My heart hurt. I’d hurt him so badly. And now he was here to hurt back.
The bailiff called out: "All rise for the Honourable Magistrate Helena Pierce."
Everyone stood as the judge entered. She was a woman in her sixties with grey hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore the traditional black robes and carried herself with authority.
She sat down behind the bench and surveyed the courtroom with sharp, intelligent eyes.
"You may be seated," she said. Her voice was clear and commanding. "Let’s begin."
The lead prosecutor—the Academy’s lawyer—stood up. "Your Honour, the Academy moves to—"
"Before we begin," the judge interrupted, "I’ve been inford there’s been a last-minute addition to the witness list. An Elena? What’s her last na?" she asked, peering at the top of her glasses.
"Yes, Your Honour," one of the bailiffs said. "She’s waiting outside and she didn’t provide any last nas.."
"Bring her in," the judge ordered.
The doors opened.
Elena walked in, looking nervous. She walked to the witness stand and was sworn in.
The judge looked at her. "Ms Elena, you’ve requested to make a statent before the proceedings begin. This is highly unusual, but given the sealed nature of your testimony and its relevance to this case, I’m allowing it. Please proceed."
Elena cleared her throat. She looked directly at .
"Your Honour," she said, "I’m here to provide testimony about Charis Greye’s true parentage."
The courtroom went completely silent.
"I have evidence," Elena continued, "that proves Charis Greye is not the biological daughter of Eva and Silas Greye."
Gasps erupted throughout the courtroom. My mother stood up, her face had turned white. My father was on his feet too, shouting sothing I couldn’t hear over the noise.
The judge banged her gavel. "Order! Order in this court!"
Elena kept talking, her voice cutting through the chaos.
"I have docuntation and DNA evidence that proves Charis Greye is actually—"
Just then, the heavy wooden doors at the back of the room swung open. I turned, expecting Kael, but it wasn’t him.
A man in a black coat walked in, followed by two officers. He moved slowly, and his eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, but there was sothing eerily familiar about his gait. He stopped briefly, turned his head toward our section and smiled.
A small distress sound ca out of Isolde, and when I turned, I saw that the colour had drained from her face and her fingers had tightened painfully around mine.
"Isolde?" I whispered. "Are you alright?"
She didn’t answer. I saw her lips quivering as she seed unable to tear her gaze away from the man.
"Isolde," I called out to her again. "Do you know who that is?"
She still didn’t answer. Her jaw clenched as the man continued walking to the other side of the room.
For the first ti since I’d t her, she looked...afraid.
Before I could ask again, the bailiff called the court to order as it was now rowdy. I could see that Headmistress Vale had a similar reaction to Isolde at the newcor. The only person who seed unaffected by the newcor’s presence was my mom. Instead, for the first ti, she had a smile on her face.
I leaned toward Isolde again. "Who is he?" I asked.
Her lips barely moved. "That man," she said softly, her voice trembling. "He’s not supposed to be alive."
I felt my stomach drop.
Not supposed to be alive?
The words echoed in my head as the gavel ca down, and the session began.
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