Chief Harrington surveyed the scene methodically, his gaze registering my injuries, my compromised condition, and the elegantly dressed woman presenting herself as rescuer rather than aggressor. Then his eyes met mine.
Recognition followed instantly.
He froze mid step, his expression transforming from professional assessment into startled disbelief.
“Judge Bennett,” he murmured quietly.
The room fell silent.
Constance blinked repeatedly, confusion fracturing her carefully constructed narrative.
“Judge,” she repeated incredulously. “That is impossible. She does not work. My son assured me she operates some inconsequential home business.”
Chief Harrington straightened immediately, removing his cap with visible respect.
“Your Honor, are you injured,” he asked formally.
I steadied my voice despite throbbing pain and exhaustion.
“She assaulted me physically, attempted to remove my child from a secured medical wing, and issued a demonstrably false accusation intended to obstruct intervention.”
Harrington’s posture hardened decisively.