How often?
Who witnessed it?
Where were the papers signed?
What happened to your phone?
Did anyone else know?
When the recording ended, I helped her back into the coat—not to hide the truth forever, but because I wasn’t finished preparing.
I opened my contacts.
Scrolled to a number I hadn’t used in almost a year.
And pressed call.
The line connected on the second ring.
“Judge Thorne speaking.”
“It’s Elena Vance.”
A brief pause.
“Elena? Is everything all right?”
I looked at the photographs filling my screen.
Then at my mother, who still flinched every time footsteps echoed somewhere else in the house.
“No, Your Honor.”
My voice was calm.
Colder than I’d ever heard it.
