He settles next to me and puts his suitcase on the table. “Isaak Noskov for the defense.”
The judge doesn’t look too impressed with him. “You’re late, Mr. Noskov.”
“I prefer to think of it as right on time.”
“This is outrageous,” Smithers protests. “Your Honor, Mr. Noskov has been remiss in his duties. He has had the audacity to arrive late and waste this court’s time. I ask that he be held in contempt of?—”
Just as Smithers is about to finish his sentence, the courtroom clock strikes nine.
“I think we can dispense with the outrage, counsel,” the judge sighs, waving away whatever Smithers was going to say next. “We all know Mr. Noskov likes to make an entrance. Now, tell me, Mr. Noskov: are you ready?”
“I was born ready, Your Honor.” He says it with a hint of cockiness, like he’s quoting a bad cliché on purpose.
The judge looks even more exhausted by him. “Yes, yes, we are all in awe. Now, if you please…”
Smithers begins his pompous opening statement. It goes on forever, detailing my appalling conduct as a mother, a woman, and generally a human being. I feel like this would be a good place to object, but my lawyer doesn’t lift a finger.
I’m about to say something myself when he leans in and whispers, “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Talk.”
“But he’s lying,” I grit. “He’s?—”
“Ms. Winters,” Isaak interrupts, “Yulian asked me to step in for your defense. If you want me to do that, you’ll need to do exactly as I tell you.”
“Says the guy who didn’t even bother to show up on time,” Nikita mutters.
Isaak shoots her an amused glance. “The way I see it, Ms. Morozova, everyone else is simply obsessed with being early.”
Nikita’s hackles rise at the mention of her last name. I can tell it’s a power play: they’ve never met, but he’s letting her know he knows her. It’s the kind of thing Yulian would do, I realize.
Whoever this guy is, he’s danger in a striped tie.
Which means Brad is in for one hell of a rude awakening.
“Today,” Smithers keeps droning on, “we will not only prove Ms. Winters is an unfit mother, but also?—”
“That she kills puppies for sport?” Isaak finally cuts in.
Smithers looks like he’s about to have a stroke. “How dare?—!”
“Your Honor, if opposing counsel is done testifying, I’d like to petition the court to dismiss this case.”
Finally, the judge looks up. “On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that it’s complete bullshit.”
My heart freezes. Is this guy insane? Is he trying to get us kicked out of the courtroom?
But the judge just massages the bridge of her nose. “In legal terms, Mr. Noskov, if we may?”
“Certainly.”
Isaak pulls out a picture. I recognize it from the Baldwin Construction gala—our grand entrance on the red carpet. Only, this one is enlarged on my wrist, a few bruises showing where my cuff had slid down.
“The plaintiff is a known domestic abuser, Your Honor. Putting a child in Mr. Baldwin’s house is all but guaranteeing a weekly trip to the hospital, if not worse.”
