Chapter 7 - The Warrant in the Gallery
The gallery fell into a breathless, suffocating silence as the federal agents came to a halt just ten feet from the front bench. The lead agent, a tall man with iron-gray hair and piercing eyes named Special Agent Vance—no relation to either Harper or the attorney—didn't even look at Judge Thomas. His gaze locked entirely onto Vincent.
"Vincent Romano," the agent announced, his voice carrying clearly across the room. "You are named in a federal bench warrant issued out of the District Court. Step away from the civilians and place your hands where we can see them."
Richard let out a high-pitched snort of pure victory. "I told you! I told you all!"
Harper’s breath hitched. Without thinking, she stepped half an inch closer to Vincent, her fingers brushing the fine wool of his suit jacket. She had known he was dangerous, had known his world was shrouded in shadows, but seeing the steel closing in around him made the reality terrifyingly real.
Vincent slowly turned his head to look at Special Agent Vance. A cold, sardonic smile touched the corner of his mouth.
"Agent Vance," Vincent said, his voice remarkably steady. "You interrupted a family court proceeding. My wife and I were just establishing guardianship of her younger sister. Surely a desk clerk could have delivered your paperwork to my office instead of staging a theatrical performance in front of a municipal judge."
"This isn't a desk clerk's errand, Vincent," the prosecutor stepped forward, holding a thick manila folder. "We have new evidence regarding the shipping yard logistics manifest. You're coming with us right now."
Judge Thomas slammed his gavel down—once, twice—the sharp cracks echoing like gunshots.
"Enough!" the judge barked, glaring down at the federal prosecutor. "In this courtroom, we resolve matters concerning the welfare of a minor child before federal grand juries play their political games. Mr. Romano may be your target, but Mrs. Harper Vance has presented a valid, expedited marriage license and a documented legal domicile. Unless you are charging her as well, step back."
Special Agent Vance blinked, his eyes shifting from Vincent to Harper for the first time. He took in her cream-colored designer dress, the platinum ring, and the stark, pale terror in her eyes.
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"She's a civilian, Your Honor," the agent said slowly. "She has no idea what kind of man she legally bound herself to twenty-four hours ago."
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