Ch.7: Courtroom Theater

The courtroom didn't smell like justice. It smelled like expensive cologne and fear.

I stood at the defense table, my back straight, my hands folded on the polished wood to hide the tremor that hadn't left me since the raid. I wore my only other suit—navy blue, polyester blend, wrinkled from the back of my closet.

Julian sat next to me. He was wearing a new suit, charcoal gray, cut so sharp it could draw blood. He looked rested. He looked like he owned the building.

"You look tired, Harper," he murmured, not looking up from his tablet.

"I didn't sleep," I whispered back, keeping my eyes on the jury box. "Hard to rest when the police are ripping up your floorboards."

Julian paused. His finger hovered over the screen. "They were looking for leverage."

"They planted heroin. I flushed it."

"Good. You're learning."

"I'm not learning," I hissed. "I'm surviving."

"All rise!"

Judge Halloway entered, his robes billowing like a storm cloud. He banged the gavel.

"Court is now in session. Case 894-Delta. Opening statements."

The gallery was packed. Reporters, Vane Global shareholders, curiosity seekers. And cameras. Dozens of floating drone cameras, hovering silently near the ceiling, broadcasting every twitch, every sweat bead, to the millions watching on the city's screens.

Above the judge’s bench, a massive holographic ticker tape scrolled.

**VANE GUILTY: 88% | VANE INNOCENT: 12%**

The Public Sentiment Stock. The "P-Stock." In the Obsidian Circuit, justice wasn't just blind; it was crowdsourced. If that number hit zero, the Judge could declare a summary verdict. No jury deliberation. Just execution.

" Prosecution," Halloway barked.

District Attorney Marcus Sterling—no relation to my boss, just a coincidence of a corrupt city, or maybe nepotism I hadn't untangled yet—strode to the center of the room. He was my mentor in law school. He taught me evidence. He taught me ethics.

Now he was going to teach me pain.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Sterling began, his voice a rich baritone that filled the room. He pointed a finger at Julian. "Look at him."

Every head turned.

"Julian Vane. A man who has everything. Money. Power. Influence. He believes the rules don't apply to him. He believes he can drink a bottle of scotch, get into a weaponized sports car, and turn a young man into..."

Sterling paused. He clicked a remote.

The holographic screens above the jury exploded with color.

It was the crime scene photos. High definition. Visceral.

My brother's body. Twisted. Broken.

I dug my nails into my palms until I felt skin break. *Don't look. Don't react. If you cry, the stock goes down.*

"Liam Vance," Sterling said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "He was twenty-two. He worked two jobs. He had a cat named Buster. He wasn't a billionaire. He was a citizen. And he was slaughtered."

The jury flinched. One woman in the back row covered her mouth.

The P-Stock ticked down. **VANE INNOCENT: 9%**.

"The Defense will try to confuse you," Sterling continued, pacing in front of the jury box like a shark. "They will talk about technicalities. They will talk about sensor glitches. But ask yourselves this: Who has the motive to lie? The dead boy on the pavement? Or the man trying to save his trillion-dollar empire?"

Sterling turned to me. His eyes were sad. Disappointed.

"Ms. Vance represents the defendant. She is the sister of the victim. Imagine the coercion, the pressure, the *money* it must have taken to buy her silence."

A gasp went through the gallery.

He weaponized me. He used my presence as proof of Julian's guilt.

"The Prosecution rests its opening," Sterling said.

He sat down. The room was silent.

"Defense," Halloway said. "Ms. Vance. You're up."

I stood. My legs felt like they were made of glass. I walked to the center of the room. I looked at the jury. Twelve faces. Twelve people who already hated me.

I looked at the ticker. **8%**.

I had to give the performance of my life. I had to follow the script Julian and I hadn't written but both understood.

"My brother is dead," I said. My voice didn't shake. "And nothing I do in this room will bring him back."

I walked over to the projection of the crash.

"The Prosecution wants you to act on emotion. They want you to hate Julian Vane because he is rich and my brother was poor. I hate him too."

I turned and pointed at Julian. He looked back at me, impassive.

"I hate him because he is alive and Liam is not. But..."

I took a breath. This was it. The lie.

"But I am an officer of the court. And I took an oath. Not to money. Not to vengeance. But to the truth."

I looked at Sterling.

"The Prosecution says this is a simple case. Drunk driver. Dead pedestrian. Open and shut."

I walked back to the defense table. I picked up a file. I held it up. It was empty, just a prop, but they didn't know that.

"But what if I told you that the evidence isn't simple? What if I told you that the timeline the Prosecution just presented... is mathematically impossible?"

I slammed the file down on the table.

"The Defense will show that Julian Vane was not in control of his vehicle. We will show that the car was hacked. And we will show that my brother..."

I hesitated. I couldn't say the body was cold. Not yet. I had to save that.

"...that my brother was a pawn in a game much larger than a traffic accident."

"Objection!" Sterling shot up. "Speculation! Conspiracy theory!"

"Overruled," Halloway grumbled. "It's an opening statement. Sit down."

I looked at Julian. He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"We will prove," I said, turning back to the jury, "that Julian Vane is being framed. And we will prove it using the Prosecution's own data."

I sat down.

The P-Stock flickered. **VANE INNOCENT: 11%**.

It wasn't much. But it was a start.

"Mr. Vane," Halloway said. "Please rise for the arraignment. How do you plead?"

This was the script. He pleads Not Guilty. We move to discovery. I file the motion about the autopsy tomorrow.

Julian stood up. He buttoned his jacket.

"Your Honor," Julian said, his voice smooth and clear. "I plead..."

He looked at me. A strange glint in his eye. A challenge.

"...Guilty."

The room stopped.

My heart stopped.

"Guilty?" Halloway asked, leaning forward. "Mr. Vane, are you aware that a guilty plea to capital manslaughter carries a mandatory death sentence?"

"I am," Julian said.

"No!" I shouted, jumping up. "Your Honor, my client is... he's confused! I request a recess!"

"I am not confused, Ms. Vance," Julian said, turning to me. "I killed him. I was drunk. I drove the car. I hit him."

He was tanking it. He was destroying the defense. Why?

Then I saw it. He tapped his watch. Three times.

*The Code.*

He wasn't confessing. He was signaling.

"I did it," Julian said to the jury. "But I did it because I was threatened."

"Threatened?" Halloway asked. "By whom?"

Julian smiled.

"By the firm of Sterling & Wolfe."

Pandemonium.

The gallery erupted. Reporters shouted questions. Sterling jumped up, screaming objection. Halloway hammered his gavel so hard I thought the handle would snap.

"Order! Order in this court!"

Julian leaned close to me amidst the chaos.

"Now, Harper," he whispered. "Improvise. Pivot to the blackmail. Use the third option."

I looked at him. He had just admitted to the crime, but claimed duress. It changed the charge from Manslaughter to... something else.

It was madness. It was suicide.

But I looked at the ticker.

**VANE INNOCENT: 45%**

The crowd loved a conspiracy. They loved a twist.

I looked at Halloway. He looked furious. He looked terrified.

I realized then what Julian had done. He hadn't just thrown a wrench in the gears. He had thrown a grenade.

And I had to catch the shrapnel.

"The Defense moves to amend the plea!" I shouted over the noise. "Not Guilty by reason of Duress! We can prove my client was coerced!"

"Denied!" Halloway roared. "You cannot change a plea mid-stream!"

"Watch me!" I shouted back. "Unless you want me to read the list of Sterling & Wolfe's offshore accounts into the public record right now!"

I didn't have the list. But Halloway didn't know that.

The Judge froze. His face went pale.

He looked at the ticker.

The 'Public Sentiment Stock' ticker on the wall plummeted into the red. If it hits zero, the Judge is legally allowed to bypass the jury.