Chapter 22: The Trial Begins
286 words
The silence in the courtroom was heavy, suffocating. Elena sat at the plaintiff's table, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were white. Thorne sat opposite, staring at the table, his posture rigid. The air smelled of floor wax and old wood.
Julian stood up. He adjusted his rumpled suit, but his eyes were laser-focused. He didn't use flashy theatrics; he used silence. He let the jury wait, building the tension, mastering the opening statement tips he’d obsessed over all night.
"Greed," Julian said, his voice carrying to the back of the room. "It is a calculator that subtracts humanity to add profit."
He walked the jury through the timeline. The bruised arms. The stolen meals. The cold rooms. Elena watched the jurors. A woman in the back row wiped her eyes. A man in a blue shirt glared at Thorne. The courtroom trial procedure moved agonizingly slow, each exhibit a fresh cut in Elena’s memory.
Then, it was Elena’s turn. The bailiff called her name. The walk to the stand felt like miles. She swore into the microphone, her voice small.
"Tell us about the day you found the bruises," Julian asked gently.
Elena looked at Thorne, then at the jury. She described the purple marks on Arthur’s translucent skin. She described the hunger in his eyes. She didn't act; she remembered. The pain in her voice was raw, unpolished, and devastating.
The jury sympathy factors were off the charts. By the time she finished whispering, "He was just a line item in a budget to them," the court reporter was crying. Thorne’s expensive lawyer put his head in his hands, knowing no amount of rhetoric could fix this.
End of Chapter 22
