Chapter 13: The Courthouse Steps
The federal courthouse in the city loomed before us like a monolithic gray mountain of granite and limestone. As Dad’s sedan pulled up to the curb, a swarm of reporters and camera crews surged forward, their flashes popping like continuous bolts of lightning. I instinctively shrank back against the leather seat, my chest tightening with a familiar, cold dread.
Dad reached across the console and placed his hand gently over mine. “Keep your eyes on me, Sofia. Just look at me. We walk through them together, and we don't stop.”
He opened the door, stepped out into the chaotic noise of shouting questions and flashing lights, and immediately opened my side. As I stepped onto the concrete sidewalk, Dad extended his arm, shielding me with his broad shoulders. Flashbulbs illuminated the damp morning air, but Dad’s grip was firm and unyielding, guiding me up the wide stone steps past the bronze pillars and through the heavy glass doors of the entrance.
Inside, the noise of the media faded instantly into a respectful, vaulted silence. Security guards directed us through the metal detectors and toward courtroom 4B on the second floor.
When we pushed open the heavy oak doors of the courtroom, the contrast was striking. Veronica sat at the defendant’s table, dressed in a sharply tailored charcoal suit instead of the glamorous white satin dress I remembered from the foyer. Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe chignon, and her expression was cold, sharp, and utterly unrepentant. She turned her head slightly, her icy gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
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I didn't look away this time. I remembered Dad’s hand on my shoulder, the sound of the ocean outside our cottage, and the freedom of the coastal breeze. I lifted my chin just a fraction, holding her gaze until she was the one who looked away, turning back to confer with her court-appointed defense attorney.
Dad led me to the wooden bench in the gallery behind the prosecution table. We sat down side by side, waiting for the bailiff to call the court to order, ready to face the ghosts of our past in the harsh, uncompromising light of truth.
