Chapter 2 - The Gallery of Ghosts
The corridors of the Suffolk Probate and Family Court smelled of old paper, floor wax, and quiet desperation. Marble floors echoed with the sharp click of heels and the low murmurs of attorneys whispering last-minute settlements to anxious clients.
Nathan and I walked through the double doors of Courtroom 3B just minutes before nine.
Even from twenty feet away, I could see them.
Aaron sat at the petitioner’s table, flanked not by corporate HR representatives or timid advisors, but by Richard Vance—a tall, silver-haired man with eyes like polished flint—and, conspicuously seated right behind them, Jasmine Cole.
Jasmine was wearing a tailored charcoal Chanel suit that looked suspiciously similar to one I had left hanging in our master closet. Her posture was rigid, her expression a careful mix of concern and wounded innocence.
As I walked down the center aisle, Aaron turned his head.
His face was drawn, dark circles shadowing eyes that looked like they hadn't slept since three o'clock yesterday morning. His tailored Brioni suit, usually immaculate, had a faint crease near the lapel—a sign that he had dressed in a hurry, perhaps straight from wherever he had spent the night before.
When our eyes met, his expression flickered. For a split second, I saw the man I had married—the one who used to laugh over burnt Sunday pancakes and hold my hand in cramped coffee shops before Prescott Global swallowed his soul.
Then the mask slammed back down. He turned away, whispering something to Vance.
"Keep your eyes on me," Nathan murmured, guiding me to the respondent's table. "Vance is going to try to provoke you. He wants an emotional outburst for the record."
"I don't do emotional outbursts in public," I whispered back, opening my leather portfolio. "That's Aaron's specialty."
Judge Harrison swept into the courtroom moments later, her black robes rustling as she took her seat. She didn't waste time on pleasantries.
"Counsel, I’ve reviewed the emergency petition filed by Mr. Prescott regarding asset preservation and the Marblehead property. Mr. Vance, you may begin. Make it brief; I have a full docket."
Vance rose, buttoning his jacket with practiced elegance. He moved toward the center of the well like a trial lawyer playing to an invisible jury.
"Your Honor, what we are dealing with here is not a standard marital dissolution," Vance began, his voice resonant and dripping with feigned sorrow. "Mr. Prescott has spent the last three years building Prescott Global into a cornerstone of regional commerce, while quietly supporting his wife through what can only be described as private struggles. Yesterday morning, without warning, Mrs. Prescott engaged in a coordinated, public cyber-harassment campaign designed to damage her husband’s professional reputation."
He clicked a remote, projecting a screenshot of my Slack message onto the courtroom’s digital display.
A murmur rippled through the gallery.
"Furthermore," Vance continued, pivoting smoothly toward our table, "following this digital assault, Mrs. Prescott unilaterally stripped our client's personal residence of shared assets and is currently attempting to alienate pre-marble real estate holdings that were substantially improved using corporate and marital capital. We are asking for an immediate asset freeze across all personal and affiliated accounts, as well as an order compelling the return of all disputed property."
He sat down with a quiet, self-satisfied thud.
Judge Harrison looked over her half-moon spectacles, her gaze shifting slowly from Vance to Nathan, and finally landing on me.
"Mr. Brooks?" she prompted. "Your response?"
Nathan stood calmly, adjusting his cuffs. "Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Vance paints a very dramatic picture—one worthy of a daytime soap opera. Unfortunately, it bears very little resemblance to the facts."
Nathan walked toward the center of the room, holding up a single folder.
"First, the Marblehead property was deeded to my client by her father three months prior to the marriage, with an ironclad prenuptial agreement explicitly exempting it from marital property. No corporate or marital funds were ever used for its upkeep or renovation; those invoices were paid directly from my client’s personal pre-marriage trust."
Vance half-rose. "Objection, Your Honor, foundation—”
"Sit down, Mr. Vance, Mr. Brooks is speaking," Judge Harrison said dryly.
"Thank you, Your Honor," Nathan continued. "Second, regarding the so-called digital assault: Mrs. Prescott sent a factual notification to her husband's colleagues clarifying her domestic status after three years of maintaining his household. If truth constitutes harassment, Mr. Vance’s vocabulary needs revision."
Nathan turned back toward our table and picked up a secondary document—one we hadn't reviewed in his office the previous afternoon.
"Finally, Your Honor, we would argue that any emergency injunction is entirely moot, because Mr. Prescott’s petition fails to disclose a vital material fact regarding his own financial standing and recent corporate disclosures."
Aaron stiffened at the defense table. I saw his head snap toward Vance.
"What material fact, Mr. Brooks?" Judge Harrison asked, leaning forward.
"We have reason to believe, and documentation to support, that over the past six months, Prescott Global has quietly transferred substantial liquid assets into secondary subsidiary accounts managed by external entities—entities in which Mr. Prescott’s personal associate, Ms. Jasmine Cole, holds a designated power of attorney."
The courtroom went dead silent.
Jasmine went completely pale. Aaron lurched half out of his seat, his mouth opening in protest, before Vance aggressively grabbed his elbow and yanked him back down.
Judge Harrison’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. She looked down at Aaron and Vance.
May you like
"Mr. Vance," the judge said softly, her voice carrying a terrifying chill. "Are corporate subsidiary funds being commingled with personal litigation leverage in my court?"
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