Chapter 79: The first hearing
The thick oak doors of Courtroom 402 shut with a heavy, muted thud, instantly locking out the noise from the street.
Inside, the room felt huge and surprisingly cold. High ceilings stretched overhead, and row after row of dark wooden benches filled the back half of the room, separated from the front by a waist-high railing. The air smelled faintly of old paper, floor wax, and polished wood.
Because of the high profile of the case, the public benches weren’t completely empty. A handful of vetted spectators, legal observers, and a few quiet court reporters sat scattered across the back rows, whispering in hushed tones that echoed against the plaster walls.
Isabella sat at the long table on the left side of the room. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her gloves tucked away in her pocket so her bare fingers could press against each other.
Her blindness turned the room into a strange, sharp world of sounds. She couldn’t see the dark wood or the tall windows, but she heard everything, the subtle rustle of legal pads, the rhythmic tap of a pen against a desk, the faint creak of leather shoes as someone shifted weight behind her.
Beside her, Niko was leaning over his documents, humming a quiet tune under his breath as he organized his papers with quick, relaxed movements.
And directly to her right, sitting just half a step back, was Aaron.
He sat quietly, his tall frame still, his grey coat draped over the back of his seat, watching the room with quiet, dark eyes.
Across the center aisle, sitting at the right-hand table, was Kian.
Beside Kian sat Arthur Pendleton, looking as calm and gentle as a man sitting down for afternoon tea.
On Kian’s other side was his head trial lawyer, a sharp-faced man named Williams, who was currently whispering into Kian’s ear.
Kian wasn’t listening to Williams.
His eyes were glued to Isabella’s hands. He sat with his jaw locked tight, his teeth grinding together so hard a tiny muscle twitched in his cheek.
He saw the way she sat slightly turned toward Aaron. He saw how close Aaron’s arm was to hers.
Every breath Aaron took, every time Aaron leaned an inch closer to whisper something to the lawyer, Kian felt a burning, ugly heat flare behind his ribs.
’Take your filthy hands off her,’ Kian thought, his fingers curling into tight balls beneath the edge of the polished desk. ’She’s my wife. Don’t touch her.’
In the rows behind Kian, a couple of junior law clerks were leaning in close to each other, murmuring under their breath.
"Look at Carter," one whispered quietly. "He looks like he’s about to jump across the table."
"Can you blame him?" the other replied, barely moving his lips. "Kazarov brought half his security detail into the building, and he’s sitting right next to the woman. It’s a complete power play."
On the bench, Judge Daniel tapped his gavel once. The flat wooden ’thack’ cut through the whispers, bringing total silence to the room.
"In the matter of Pendleton versus Carter," the judge announced, his voice deep and raspy from years of speaking in drafty rooms.
"We are here for a preliminary hearing regarding the petition for dissolution of marriage, filed by Mrs. Isabella Pendleton-Carter, and the formal objection filed by the respondent, Mr. Kian Carter."
The judge lowered his glasses, his pale eyes looking over the rims toward Niko.
"Counsel, does the petitioner still wish to proceed with the dissolution?"
Niko stood up smoothly. He didn’t look nervous at all. He smoothed his suit jacket, offering the judge a polite, easy smile that seemed almost too casual for a room filled with tens of millions of dollars in legal fees.
"Yes, Your Honor," Niko said, his tone bright and crisp. "Mrs. Carter wishes to move forward with the petition immediately."
The judge turned his eyes toward Kian’s table. "And the respondent?"
Arthur stood up, his posture slightly stooped, his grey hair neatly brushed back. He looked like an understanding uncle trying to resolve a small family misunderstanding.
"The respondent formally contests the petition, Your Honor," Arthur said softly, his voice full of quiet respect.
Isabella felt a cold lump form in her throat. Hearing those words spoken aloud in the silence of the court made her chest feel tight. ’He really won’t let me go.’
Her mind rushed to the feeling of the bullet piercing her skull, the strange words she saw on her skin, the wish she had made in her last breath to survive, the mark behind her ears and everything that followed after.
Sensicing the slight drop in her posture, Aaron moved. He didn’t make a big gesture. He didn’t pull her into his arms or make a show for the room. He simply rested his hand on the armrest of her chair and let the side of his pinky finger brush against the back of her wrist.
The small, warm touch was continuous and solid.
Isabella took a slow, deep breath, letting out the air through her nose. She was fine now. She wasn’t lying at the edge of the stairs, bleeding out while her supposed husband and his mistress watched her die. She was given a second chance and she was using it.
She reached out slightly with her hand, letting her fingers touch his, finding that single point of contact and holding onto it.
"You’re okay," Aaron murmured, his voice so low it barely carried past the armrest.
"I’m trying to be," she whispered back, her lips barely moving.
"That’s enough," he said softly.
Across the aisle, Kian’s eyes caught that tiny exchange.
He saw the slight movement of Isabella’s fingers, saw the way her shoulders relaxed the second Aaron touched her.
A wave of bitter rage slammed into his chest, making his throat feel dry. He remembered when he was the one she reached for.
He remembered how she used to lean against his shoulder when she was tired, how she trusted him to guide her through every room.
Now, she was reaching for a man who had practically been a stranger to her two months ago.
Beside him, Arthur reached out and lightly tapped Kian’s forearm, warning him without saying a word. Kian forced himself to unclench his fists, but his eyes never left the side of Aaron’s face.
Aaron slowly turned his head. He didn’t look angry, and he didn’t look smug. He met Kian’s murderous glare with a flat, bored look that said everything without making a sound: ’You had your chance, and you lost.’
"Mr. Williams, Mr. Pendleton," Judge Daniel said, looking down at his papers. "Since you are contesting the petition, I assume you have a legal basis to present."
Niko didn’t wait. He stepped forward toward the center podium, resting his hands loosely on the wood.
"If I may, Your Honor," Niko began, his tone conversational and light.
"My client’s request is remarkably simple. The marriage has irretrievably broken down. Mrs. Carter has made it clear that she no longer wishes to remain married to Mr. Carter. She is not seeking a massive financial settlement today. She is not attempting to seize his personal assets, nor is she trying to dismantle his corporate holdings. She is asking for one thing: the legal dissolution of a marriage that exists only on paper."
Niko turned slightly, gesturing toward Kian’s table.
"The respondent has filed a formal objection," Niko continued, raising his eyebrows slightly.
"Yet, in all the pages submitted by his team, Mr. Carter has not offered this Court a single meaningful reason why these two adults should be forced to remain legally bound to one another. An objection, Your Honor, is merely a statement of dislike. It is not a legal reason to keep a woman trapped in a union she has explicitly walked away from."
A quiet hum of movement passed through the public benches in the back.
"Nice hit," one of the reporters muttered to the person beside him. "He’s calling Kian’s bluff right out of the gate."