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His grip on my hand tightens, offering solace and reassurance. “I’m here, baby.” His voice is filled with conviction. “Every step of the way. We’ll face this together no matter what happens.”
It’s just the boost I need.
As Seth takes me through the witness preparation, memories resurface, and emotions run high. Amidst the turmoil, Joar sits next to me. A quiet, supportive presence. Occasionally, he’ll offer advice when I ask for it, but he doesn’t jump in or take over.
Which I appreciate.
It means he believes in me.
Believes I’m capable of handling this.
The hour of prep passes rapidly. It’s worth the effort though. I’m ready to face my ex and, hopefully, reclaim my life.
The courtroom itself is plain but exudes an air of solemnity and order. Positioned on an elevated platform, the judge’s bench looms over the room. Just below, three diligent court clerks are busily preparing for the afternoon. Adjacent to the bench, I see the witness stand, where I’ll soon take my oath. The plaintiff and defendant tables are side by side. Lawyers flit around with boxes of files. Books. Stacks of documents. You name it. To one side, the jury box stands.
The public gallery is empty, as this is a closed proceeding. The media, however, wait in droves outside. Harrison’s troubles are all over the news. I’m in the headlines too, which I don’t love, but at least the stories about me are all positive.
So far.
I notice a few cameramen from national news shows have been allowed to set up in the back. When Seth sees me tense up, he assures me they’re not allowed to film me except when I recite my oath and again when we depart the courtroom.
I’m glad Joar’s most-trusted advisor seems to be—finally—firmly on my side. He’s protective of JJ, which I’ve come to appreciate. My man takes care of so many people, it’s comforting to know he has Seth looking out for him.
I hope he’s truly looking out for me.
Behind the prosecution bench, I’m seated between Seth and Joar. My hands, which rest in my lap, begin to tremble. There’s no hiding how nervous I am. Joar places a comforting palm over mine. Gives it a reassuring squeeze. His presence is a steadfast reminder that I’m not alone. “You’ve got this, Clover,” he whispers, his voice filled with unwavering support. “Remember, you’re doing the right thing by speaking up.”
The courtroom doors swing open in the back. I take a deep breath, try to steady my racing heart.
Here we go.
The room falls into hushed silence when Harrison enters, flanked by his smarmy legal team. Solange follows, making a great effort to stare me down and toss her head when I catch her eye. My God, their arrogant behavior hasn’t wavered one bit, but I refuse to let it intimidate me.
I haven’t seen either of them in over a year, but I find the two of them pathetic. It makes me physically ill that I married such a poor excuse of a human being when I was so young, alone, and impressionable. After today, hopefully he’ll face the consequences of his actions. My temporary feelings of unease at being here are worth it.
I’ve come too far, endured too much, to let him—or his lawyers—break me.
Moments later the judge takes the bench, the jury is seated and trial proceedings begin. Aside from a motion Harrison’s lawyers file to exclude my testimony, which is denied, I find myself walking up to the stand within fifteen minutes of court being in session.
The prosecutor, a petite woman in a gray suit approaches. She has few questions, but they cut through the air with precision. I try to keep each one of my responses measured and truthful. I’m appreciative when she notices Harrison leering and rolling his eyes at my testimony. He’s trying to distract me. Intimidate me.
She expertly positions herself to block him so I can’t see, but the grand jury can watch his buffoonery.
Every now and then I catch glimpses of Harrison. His eyes are laser-focused on me, filled with a mix of anger and disbelief as my story unfolds. Probably because he realizes his carefully constructed facade is crumbling. The truth is emerging from the shadows he cast.
When the voicemails are played, it still shocks me at how accurate they sound. I vehemently deny that the voice is mine, and the jury seems to believe me. They look at me with empathetic eyes and barely hide their revulsion every time Harrison’s lawyers try to interrupt me or deny my ex’s involvement.
At the end of the day, by telling my truth, I’m putting the last parts of my shattered soul together. It’s a powerful moment. A glimmer of victory in a battle that’s lasted far too long.
Throughout it all, Joar watches me with admiration and wonder. His support is unwavering. When Harrison’s lawyers decline to question me, I know I’ve done well. His lawyers never bothered to depose me, because I’m sure Harrison told them I was still the young, impressionable woman he could control.
“You were incredible, Clover,” Joar whispers when I sit down. “You’ve stood up to him. Refused to let him define your worth. You’re amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
When the court takes a recess for the afternoon break, the three of us leave. We’re standing in the lobby saying goodbye to Seth when I hear a group of people behind us.
“You always were a useless bitch, Clover.” It’s Harrison.
“You pathetic asshole.” Joar whirls around. “Don’t talk to her that way.”
