He was a man known for his unshakable composure and his rigid adherence to the law. He had dark hair with a touch of gray at the temples and eyes that were the exact same shade as mine—eyes that had looked out for me my entire life, even when I had pushed everyone away in a misguided attempt at independence. His hands gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white, his jaw tightening as he stared at me. In that split second, four years of silence vanished.
He was my brother.
I hadn’t seen him in nearly half a decade. Marcus had been very careful in how he isolated me, mocking my family, manufacturing conflicts, and convincing me that I was a burden to them until I eventually stopped reaching out. Sam had become a ghost I lived with in my memory.
“Order in the court,” Judge Rowan commanded, though his voice was thick with emotion. Marcus stood taller, his confidence seemingly unshaken, while Elara kept her smug expression. The judge leaned forward, his eyes locked onto mine. “Bailiff,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. “Lock the doors.”