The courtroom erupted into chaos. Roland’s outburst sent a shockwave through the air, reverberating off the walls and into the hearts of everyone present. The judge, her face a mask of stern authority, slammed her gavel on the bench, demanding order. “Bailiff, detain Mr. Greystone,” she commanded with a voice that brooked no dissent.
As Roland was escorted out, his protests echoing faintly in the corridors, a heavy silence enveloped the room. My heart pounded against my ribs as I clutched the edge of the table, my eyes never leaving Hazel. There was a strength in her small frame I hadn’t fully recognized until that moment. Her voice had been like a beacon, cutting through the fog of deceit that Roland had so meticulously constructed.
“Child, please continue,” Judge Thornwell urged gently, her demeanor softening as she turned her attention back to Hazel. The courtroom waited with bated breath, a sea of curious eyes fixed on my daughter.
