Then Judge Wexler looked up, eyes sharp beneath his glasses.
"Mr. Lancaster," he said, voice dry but direct. "Your statement."
The weariness in his tone made it clear—he was ready to close the book on this case.
Harvey Lancaster stood up slowly, jaw tight, still simmering from earlier—Jessica's stunt, Alexander's silence, the pressure. All of it had built up behind his eyes. But he breathed in, then out. Closed his eyes.
Not now, Harvey. Not now. Now is the time to win, he told himself.
He opened his eyes. Cold. Steady.
He stepped forward, adjusted his tie, and nodded formally.
"Your Honor," he began, with the standard bow of acknowledgment. "Ladies and gentlemen of the court."
No theatrics. No passion. Just precision.
"I will be brief."
He glanced at the packed courtroom, then at Wexler. There was a flicker of approval already in the judge's eyes.
