90

ZARA'S POV

That was one heavy courtroom; I could feel it, a weight palpable upon the air. Seated beside the plaintiff's table, clutching the photo of my son tightly between my clasped hands, every beat of my heart seemed to feel this invisible vice squeezing tight. Across the room, Kai sat oozing smug confidence: the expensive suit, cool, calm demeanor molding him into every inch of the untouchable mogul he wanted the world to think he was.

"Ready?" Michael whispered beside me, his hand light on my arm.

I nodded, but by now my stomach had started to do its wildest churning ever. "I have to be," I whispered low, "for my son."

In strode the judge, and to his presence as one single body rose the courtroom. "All rise," cut through the silence of the voice of the bailiff.

We sat in a chair as the trial began and stood up to address the court with that gloss of refinement only money can provide.