This is the petition for a temporary protection order and the hearing schedule. Anderson signed, then turned to Ethan. Tonight, limit movement in and out.
Don’t let the girl go outside alone. I’ve notified the local police about the threats. By late afternoon they left the courthouse.
Ethan held Emma’s hand on the way home. Mr. Harris in the lobby looked around more carefully than usual. In the elevator, Emma leaned against Ethan’s arm and whispered.
If I have to speak in court tomorrow, I’ll tell the truth. Ethan tightened his grip on her hand. I’ll be right beside you.
Night came. Ethan prepared a simple dinner. Emma ate little, but for once, she did not stop halfway through.
After her bath, she sat by the window drying her teddy bear, quiet as if talking to someone invisible. Ethan reorganized the files, checking everything one last time. Backup USB, photos of the scene, technical reports, draft testimonies.
The television in the living room switched on to the evening news. The anchor read briskly. New developments in the custody battle of the Collins child.
The screen showed Karen in a black dress, eyes glistening as she stood before the cameras. She spoke clearly, almost rehearsed. I will fight to regain custody of my daughter.
Millionaire Ethan Collins is nothing but a greedy man trying to seize control of the shares. The living room seemed to sink under the weight of her words. Emma turned, clutching her teddy bear tightly.
Ethan didn’t switch off the television. Instead, he stepped forward, blocking half the screen so that Emma saw only him. Listen to me, he said slowly, each word deliberate.
Noise is not the truth. The broadcast continued. Bold headlines scrolled across the screen.
Outside the window, the city lit up. Another night was falling, and the storm of public opinion had only just begun. Ethan turned off the television, stacked the files neatly, and checked the USB one last time.
The next morning, he held Emma’s hand as they walked through the gates of the New York County Family Court. The hallway was packed with people. William Anderson walked beside him, carrying a thick case file.
He gave a small nod to Paula Green, the paralegal, who was already waiting. A court bailiff, Miller, guided them into courtroom three. Inside, Judge Patricia Coleman sat high on the bench, her expression stern.
To the left stood defense attorney Avery Clark, representing Karen. To the right, in the public gallery, several reporters were present. Karen wore a black dress, her eyes red, as she looked straight into the cameras.
Robert sat beside her, in a dark shirt, his face carefully set in the role of the kind uncle. The clerk called out the names of the parties, the judge tapped her gavel. Court is now in session.
Attorney Clark rose first. My client, Mrs. Karen Collins, is a desperate mother. The child was taken from her home against the guardian’s will by Mr. Ethan Collins, a powerful businessman.
This is an abduction disguised as protection. Karen sobbed right on cue, pressing a handkerchief to her eyes. Ethan stood tall, his voice steady.
Your Honor, this child was subjected to psychological abuse. They dragged her outside and threw water on her, as if she were an object. I have witnesses.
The judge said, bring in the witness. Dorothy Wilson stepped forward, her hands trembling. She introduced herself as the downstairs neighbor.
I saw them pull the girl out. Robert was gripping her wrist. Karen carried a bucket of water and poured it straight over her head.
The little girl shrank back and begged. Attorney Clark interrupted. Do you bear any personal grudge against my client? Dorothy shook her head.
No. I was afraid. Afraid because they have money and influence.
But the truth is, I saw it happen. Frank Miller came next. He wore a worn knit cap, his voice rough but firm.
I sleep in the alley out back. I heard the child crying. When I looked up, I saw her being dragged and stumbling.
I wanted to step in but Robert stared at me like he would kill me if I moved. I’m saying this because I don’t want any child living the way I’ve had to. The judge nodded, taking notes.
Anderson carefully placed the USB on the table. Your Honor, this is a recording hidden inside the teddy bear left by the child’s birth mother. I have verified the timestamps and metadata.
With the court’s permission, I’d like to play it. The courtroom fell silent. Richard’s weary, shaky voice came from the speakers.
What did you put in the bottle? I don’t need this. When I drink it, my heart races. Karen, where did you get it? Robert’s voice, cold as ice, replied.
The doctor prescribed it. Just drink. And then Karen’s whisper came, so close it brushed against the microphone.
Let him drink more. A murmur rose and then faded. Robert’s face turned pale as he shot up from his seat.
Fake. Fabricated. Anyone could splice that together.
Anderson didn’t turn his head. Your Honor, I have submitted a verification report of the file’s origin, the time of recording, and confirmation there are no signs of tampering. This is the attached report.
He pulled out another bundle of papers, bound with a red clip. Furthermore, regarding the death of Mr. Richard’s wife, the technical report shows that the central control system of the vehicle had been tampered with. It was not the brakes.
The ECU and BCM parameters were altered. Whoever did this had both the skill and access to the car. The judge looked up.
And the source of this report? Anderson replied. From the maintenance company, with system logs. It has been authenticated by their technical representative under sworn testimony.
Attorney Clark tried to interject. Speculation. No one has directly named my client, Anderson continued.
Robert Hayes had a habit of helping, by taking the vehicle in for maintenance while the victim was still alive. This is the garage log we retrieved. The entries match the exact time of interference.
The judge turned his eyes toward the defense table. Ms. Karen Collins and Mr. Quas. Robert Hayes.
Do you wish to make a statement? Karen’s hands clutched the edge of her chair, her voice faltering. I cared about that girl. I was only teaching her.
Ethan no longer looked at her. He leaned down and spoke softly to Emma. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to…
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