The courtroom doors swung open, and a tall man in an expensive charcoal suit strode in, carrying a leather briefcase that probably cost more than my rent. He had salt-and-pepper hair, sharp blue eyes, and the kind of confident bearing that made everyone in the room take notice.
“Ms. Williams?” He extended his hand as he approached. “Rex Hatfield. I apologize for running late. Construction on I-35 was a nightmare and I was late getting to the airport.”
“Thank you for coming,” I managed, still processing that this polished attorney was here for me.
Rex’s gaze swept the courtroom, taking in Beau at the opposing table, before settling back on me. “Mr. Georgiou briefed me on the situation. We have about ten minutes before court reconvenes. Let’s talk.”
He guided me to a corner of the courtroom, his voice dropping to a confidential tone. “First, tell me about your relationship with your sister and why she named you guardian.”
I quickly explained about Maya, our estrangement, and the will. Rex nodded, making notes on a legal pad.
“And Colter Briggs?” he asked.
“Abusive. Controlling. Maya was afraid of him.”
“Any documentation? Police reports, medical records?”
My heart sank. “No. She never reported it.”
“That’s not uncommon in domestic violence cases,” Rex said matter-of-factly. “What about witnesses? Anyone who saw the abuse or heard her talk about it?”
I thought about Kane, about his refusal to testify. “Maybe, but they’re too scared to come forward.”
Rex made another note. “The CPS worker, Ms. Chen, she observed you, correct? How did your visit with the child go?”
“Really well. She said she’d give a positive report.”
“Good. That’s crucial.” Rex glanced at his watch. “One more thing. Has Mr. Briggs made any statements about his motivations for seeking custody? Anything that might suggest this isn’t about the child’s welfare?”
I thought about the night at the bar. “He asked me what it would take to make him go away. Like he was willing to sell custody.”
Rex’s eyebrows rose. “Did anyone else hear this?”
“Jason did.”
“Perfect.”
The bailiff was moving toward the front of the courtroom.
The lawyer leaned in a little. “Ms. Williams, I know this is overwhelming, but I need you to trust me. Let me do the talking unless I specifically ask you to respond. Can you do that?”
I nodded just as the bailiff called out, “All rise!”
Judge Martinez returned to the bench, her expression slightly less irritated than before. “I see counsel has arrived. Please state your appearance for the record.”
Rex stood with the kind of confidence that filled the room. “Rex Hatfield of Hatfield & Associates, Dallas, appearing on behalf of respondent Cora Williams, Your Honor.”
I caught the flash of concern that crossed Beau’s face. Apparently, he recognized the name.
“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Hatfield,” Judge Martinez said dryly. “Are you prepared to proceed?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Mr. Stanton, you may begin with your opening statement.”
Beau rose, his earlier confidence slightly shaken but still present. “Thank you, Your Honor. Ladies and gentlemen, this case is about a man who lost the love of his life and is now fighting to keep the only connection he has left to her—her son.”
I felt sick listening to him paint Colter as a grieving widower.
