The courtroom fell into an almost tangible silence as Zariah stood at the center, holding the battered tablet that had been her hidden companion, her secret keeper. My heart thudded in my chest, a mix of fear and hope battling within me. What could possibly be on that tablet? I had always been cautious of what she accessed, had monitored her usage when I could. But in the turmoil of the past months, I had missed something significant.
The judge, a stern man with eyes that seemed to see everything, signaled for the clerk to assist Zariah. She reluctantly let go of the tablet and watched with wide eyes as the clerk connected it to a display screen in the courtroom, projecting its contents for everyone to see.
Images began to flash on the screen, a series of video clips recorded by Zariah herself. The videos were shaky and dark, revealing fragments of our life that I had either overlooked or not realized she had witnessed. In one clip, my husband was on the phone, speaking in hushed tones about moving money and strategizing to ensure he came out on top in the divorce. The next clip showed him laughing with Valencia in our living room, a drink in hand, their conversation laced with familiarity and intimacy. It was clear evidence that their relationship was more than just professional.
