I felt the sting of humiliation — sharp and familiar.
He had always known how to put me down with a single word, a look, a mocking smile. As he grew up, he had perfected this art.
But this time, something was different.
His cruelty no longer had the same impact as before.
Perhaps because I was no longer a scared teenager.
Perhaps because my mother’s signature on her will remained etched in my memory.
Or perhaps because I knew what my lawyer had sealed in that simple white envelope slipped into his briefcase.
The teacher took another step forward and lowered her voice so that only Dad, Mark, and I could hear her.
« Don’t take it too badly, » she murmured with a gentle smile. « Some women are simply not meant to be heiresses or mothers. »
Dad laughed softly.
Mark gave him a dark, disapproving look. « Classy, » he murmured.
Before she could reply, a bailiff opened the door to the courtroom.
« Fern Hall Estate, » he announced. « Please enter. »
Dad took a deep breath and squeezed his mistress’s waist.
« It’s showtime, » he said.
As we walked into the courtroom together — but not together —, I felt the old pain of family breakdown, the kind that never fully heals.
The wooden benches. The solemn seal above the judge’s bench. The stale air of government.
The place seemed too sacred for the performance my father was putting on.
We took our seats.
The judge entered.
Dad stood up proudly, beaming like a man about to collect a lottery check.
And it was at that moment that I knew, with quiet certainty, that the truth contained in Mark’s briefcase — the truth that Dad didn’t know — would hit him harder than anything I could have said.
For once in my life, I didn’t feel insignificant.
I felt ready.
Part Two: The Pregnant Mistress and Public Humiliation. 1028 words. Banjanoi. Continued.
Part Three: The legal battle begins. 1 to 50 words.
When the judge finally settled into his seat, the entire room fell into that heavy, disciplined silence one only feels in government buildings and church basements — the kind of silence where every cough echoes and every whisper is perceived as a sin.
Dad loved it.
He stood straight, chin raised, hand placed possessively on his mistress’s knee, as if to present her to the judge as exhibit number one: proof that I deserve everything.
I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead, my hands resting demurely on the table. I felt Mark’s calming presence beside me — discreet, unassuming, simply unchanging like the old oak trees that line the main street.
The judge leafed through the file, stopping from time to time.
« This is a continuation of the probate proceedings concerning the late Fern Hall, » he said. « The objective today is to clarify the distribution of assets and address the objections raised by Mr. Hall. »
Dad let out a theatrical sigh, the kind of sigh that only someone deeply invested in their own performance could pull off.
« Yes, Your Honor, » he said. « I am here to ensure that my late wife’s last wishes are respected. »
I almost burst out laughing.
Mark didn’t look at Dad or me. He simply adjusted his glasses, as he always did before letting someone get into trouble.
The judge turned to Dad.
« Your documents stated that certain assets—including the marital home and the rental duplex—should revert to you rather than be transferred to your daughter. »
« That’s right, » said Dad with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. « My wife always believed in ensuring the family’s safety. She often said she wanted me to stay in control. »
« And the will? » asked the judge.
Dad shrugged, as if the will was just a cumbersome piece of paperwork.
« My wife was very ill. You know how much pain impairs one’s judgment. I believe she meant something other than what was written. »
I stiffened.
Mark placed a firm hand on my forearm, a subtle reminder to keep calm.
The teacher leaned forward, her cleavage strategically visible, and whispered loudly enough for the microphones to pick it up.
« Furthermore, Your Honor, there’s a baby now. The family is growing. Priorities change. »
Dad nodded enthusiastically.
« Exactly. My unborn child also deserves to be protected. »
The judge raised an eyebrow.
« We will respond to this complaint in due course. »
Dad beamed, confusing patience with approval.
Mark cleared his throat.
« Your Honor, before proceeding, I would like to clarify that the will was drafted by a licensed attorney and signed by Mrs. Hall herself, while she was in full possession of her mental faculties. I have medical reports confirming her full mental capacity at that time. »
He handed several documents to the bailiff.
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