Ice floods my veins. "When?"
"This morning. Early." Silas glances at his watch. "I've already filed a motion to dismiss the allegation as baseless speculation, but the judge may want to question you both."
Judith's hand finds mine, squeezing tight. "They can't prove anything. We're legally married. We live together. We're a couple in every sense."
Every sense except permanence.
"Just answer truthfully." Silas leads us toward the courthouse steps. "You married because you fell in love. The timing was accelerated because of the inheritance situation, but the relationship is genuine."
Not a lie, not really. What's grown between us is genuine, even if it didn't start that way.
"And after December 26th?" I ask quietly.
"You're planning to remain married, building your life together." Silas speaks with practiced ease. "The deadline was only relevant to the inheritance clause, not to your relationship."
We're ushered into a small courtroom, nearly empty except for the county attorney and a handful of observers. Including, I note with narrowed eyes, a representative from Northstar Development. The company that's been trying to buy my land for years.
The hearing proceeds with dry legal arguments. Property boundaries. Historical ownership. Inheritance clauses. Silas presents our case with precision, highlighting the unbroken chain of Wallace ownership, the completed requirements of the will, the legal marriage certificate.
Then the county attorney rises, adjusting his glasses with affected deliberation.
"Your Honor, while the paperwork appears in order, we have concerns about the authenticity of Mr. Wallace's marriage." He produces a sealed envelope. "We've received information suggesting this is a sham marriage, entered into solely to circumvent the terms of Edwin Wallace's will."
The judge, a stern woman in her sixties, frowns. "What evidence supports this allegation?"
"First, the timing. Mr. Wallace married mere days after learning of the marriage requirement. Second, there's information suggesting the couple plans to separate after December 26th, the day after the deadline specified in the will."
My jaw clenches. Someone's been talking. Someone with connections.
"And third," the attorney continues, "we have testimony that Mr. Wallace has never been seen with Ms. Mars prior to their sudden marriage, despite both residing in the region for some time."
"Objection." Silas rises smoothly. "This is baseless speculation and hearsay. The county has no standing to question the legitimacy of a legal marriage."
"I agree." The judge shuffles papers. "Unless you have concrete evidence of fraud, Counselor, these allegations are inappropriate."
"Your Honor, if I may." The county attorney gestures toward the gallery. "We have a witness who can attest to the suspicious nature of this relationship."
The judge sighs heavily. "This is a land transfer hearing, not a divorce court. The validity of the marriage is established by the certificate, which neither party contests."
Relief courses through me. But the county attorney isn't finished.
"Your Honor, the will specifically requires a bona fide marriage, not merely a legal certificate. The intent of EdwinWallace was clear—the land should remain in family hands, with stable family leadership."
"And how do you propose to evaluate the authenticity of Mr. Wallace's marriage?" The judge's tone drips sarcasm. "A love test? Bedroom surveillance?"
A few chuckles ripple through the gallery. I remain stone-faced, though Judith's hand tightens in mine.
"Simply a brief questioning of the couple, Your Honor. To establish basic facts about their relationship."
The judge considers, then nods reluctantly. "Brief questioning only. Limited to facts relevant to the timing of the relationship as it pertains to the inheritance clause."
"Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, please approach." The judge gestures to the witness stand.
We're sworn in, side by side at the front of the courtroom. The county attorney approaches, smiling like a shark scenting blood.
"Mr. Wallace, when did you first meet Judith Mars?"
I keep my expression neutral. "Two months ago." Not technically a lie. We'd exchanged emails through the classified site before meeting in person.
