The Court Date

The courthouse was a fortress of limestone and indifference, its columns looming out of the morning fog like the teeth of a giant beast. Sarah stood in the lobby, her hand resting on the back of Agnes’s wheelchair. The marble floor was slick with the tracked-in rain of a hundred lawyers, but Sarah’s boots were dry. She had changed in the motel bathroom, trading her mud-stained jeans for a thrift-store suit that was two sizes too big but clean.

"You look like a public defender," Agnes muttered, adjusting the blanket on her lap.

"I look like someone who has nothing left to lose," Sarah said. "Which makes me dangerous."

The elevator chimed. They stepped inside, the doors closing with a heavy thud.

"Fourth floor," Sarah said. "Family court."

"Are you ready?" Agnes asked.

"No," Sarah said. "But Elena is."

She could feel the weight of the diary in her bag. It was heavy, like carrying a stone from her father’s grave. But the real weight was the secret Agnes had dropped in the motel room. *She had four.*

Four babies. Julian. Chloe. The one who died. And...

"Who is the fourth child?" Sarah asked, watching the numbers tick up.

Agnes stared at the elevator doors. "I don't know. Elena kept the records separate. But there was a fourth basket. And a fourth check."

"To whom?"

"To a private clinic in Switzerland," Agnes said. "The same one she threatened to send Maya to."

The doors opened.

The hallway was crowded with people in expensive suits, the air thick with the smell of coffee and desperation. But at the end of the hall, outside Courtroom 4B, it was quiet.

Too quiet.

Elena was there. She was standing by the window, looking out at the rain-slicked city. She wore a tailored black suit, her hair pulled back in a severe chignon. She looked like a grieving widow. Or a shark in mourning.

Flanking her were three lawyers. Sharks in training.

And standing next to them, looking uncomfortable in a suit that fit too well, was Julian.

He saw Sarah first. His eyes widened, a flash of fear—or warning—crossing his face.

Elena turned.

Her smile was instant, warm, and utterly terrifying.

"Sarah," she said, stepping forward with open arms. "Thank God you're here. We were so worried."

She tried to embrace Sarah. Sarah stepped back.

"Don't touch me," Sarah said.

Elena’s smile didn't falter. "You're upset. I understand. The stress of the... investigation."

"The investigation into your murder?" Sarah asked loudly. "Or the investigation into the arson?"

Heads turned. The hallway went silent.

"Sarah, please," one of the lawyers said, stepping forward. "This isn't the place."

"This is exactly the place," Sarah said. "This is a court of law. And I'm here to file a motion."

"We're here for the competency hearing," the lawyer said smoothly. "Yours."

Sarah looked at him. Then at Elena.

"You filed for conservatorship," she realized.

"For your own good," Elena said, her voice dripping with false concern. "You're unstable, Sarah. You assaulted a police officer. You burned down a cabin. You need help."

"I don't need help," Sarah said. "I need a judge."

She pushed Agnes’s wheelchair toward the courtroom doors.

"And I brought a witness."

Elena looked at Agnes. For a second, the mask slipped. Pure, unadulterated rage flashed in her eyes.

"Mrs. Higgins," Elena said. "You look tired. Perhaps you should go back to The Pines."

"The Pines burned down," Agnes said, her voice sharp. "Or didn't you hear?"

Elena’s jaw tightened.

"I heard," she said. "A tragedy."

"It was arson," Sarah said. "And we know who lit the match."

She pushed past Elena, into the courtroom.

The judge was already on the bench. Honorable Arthur Miller. The man who had taken a two-million-dollar bribe.

He looked up, annoyed.

"This is a closed hearing," he said.

"Not anymore," Sarah said. "I'm filing an emergency motion to stay all proceedings regarding the Vance-Jenkins estate."

"On what grounds?" Judge Miller asked, bored.

"Fraud," Sarah said. "Forgery. And murder."

She slapped the diary onto the plaintiff's table.

"This is my father's journal," she said. "It details thirty years of coercion. It details the existence of a holographic will. And it names the witnesses."

She pointed to Agnes.

"She was there."

Judge Miller looked at the diary. Then at Elena, who had followed them in.

Elena didn't look worried. She looked bored.

"Your Honor," Elena's lawyer said. "This is clearly a fabrication. Ms. Jenkins has a history of mental instability. She's forged documents before."

"I didn't forge this," Sarah said. "And I didn't forge the DNA test."

She pulled a folder from her bag.

"I have proof," she said. "Proof that Julian Vance is not Elena's son. He is Thomas Jenkins's son. My brother."

Julian flinched. He looked at the floor.

"That's preposterous," Elena said. "We have birth certificates."

"You have forgeries," Sarah said. "Just like you have a forged will."

She turned to the judge.

"I want a court-ordered DNA test. Right now."

Judge Miller sighed. He looked at Elena. Elena gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Denied," the judge said. "This court does not entertain conspiracy theories."

"You took a bribe!" Sarah shouted. "Two million dollars! I have the transfer record!"

"Bailiff!" the judge barked. "Remove this woman."

Two officers stepped forward.

"No!" Agnes shouted, standing up from her wheelchair. "You listen to me!"

The room froze. Agnes Higgins, the silent housekeeper, was standing tall.

"I witnessed the will," she said, her voice ringing off the mahogany walls. "I saw Thomas write it. I saw him hide it."

"She's senile," Elena said. "She doesn't know what she's saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying," Agnes said. "And I know where the fourth child is."

Elena’s face went white.

"The fourth child?" the judge asked, frowning.

"The one she sent away," Agnes said. "To Switzerland. To be a donor."

She pointed a shaking finger at Elena.

"You kept her on ice," Agnes said. "Just like you kept the mother."

"Enough!" Elena screamed. "Get them out of here!"

The bailiffs grabbed Sarah. They grabbed Agnes.

"You can't silence us!" Sarah yelled as she was dragged toward the door. "The truth is out! It's on the internet! It's everywhere!"

"Get her out!" Judge Miller shouted, banging his gavel.

They were shoved into the hallway. The heavy doors slammed shut.

"We failed," Agnes whispered, collapsing back into the wheelchair.

"No," Sarah said, straightening her jacket. "We just got started."

She looked at the closed doors.

"They think they won because they control the room," she said. "But they forgot one thing."

"What?"

"The courtroom has a camera," Sarah said. "For the stenographer's record."

She pulled out the burner phone.

"And Marcus hacked the feed."

She showed Agnes the screen.

*Live Stream: 50,000 Viewers.*

Comments were scrolling by so fast they were a blur.

*#JusticeForSarah*
*#VanceIsAMonster*
*#WhereIsTheFourthChild*

"The world just saw everything," Sarah said.

Inside the courtroom, a scream echoed. Not of fear. Of rage.

Elena had checked her phone.