Chapter 48
The day I had been dreading finally arrived.
It was the kind of dread that settled bone-deep, not sharp like fear but heavy, like a stone in my stomach that had been building weight for months.
I woke drained, nauseous, my body betraying me before I’d even left my bed.
I rolled over, trying to steady myself. A message from Brody greeted me and gave me the strength to get up and face the day.
When I finally made my way downstairs, everyone was ready and waiting for me. I rushed to Brody, and he instantly brushed my hair back from my clammy forehead and pressed a kiss there, his lips warm, his voice steady even when I knew his nerves weren’t.
“You’ll feel better once it’s faced,” he said softly. “Once this is over.”
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But the idea of sitting across from Andrew, of hearing him deny and twist everything, of Victoria sneering from the other side, had me feeling like my skin was too tight to contain me.
By the time we reached the courthouse, my hands were cold despite the warm fall day.
The building rose sterile and flat, all stone and glass, the kind of place that stripped the humanity out of people.
Inside, fluorescent lights hummed overhead, cruel and unforgiving, their glare making the tiled floor shine like bleached bone.
We moved through security, our shoes squeaking, our pockets and bags searched.
My parents were right behind me, their presence solid but wordless.
Mason and Clara walked together, Clara squeezing my shoulder as we waited for trays of phones and keys to be passed back.
The Palmers arrived with Chase and Adam, Dean nodding to me, Judy’s eyes already wet.
I swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise at the thought of having to relive the details of Andrew's attack in front of my family, in front of a courtroom packed with people.
I didn’t let myself think about who would be on the other side until we reached the courtroom doors. But once we stepped inside, I couldn’t stop.
Victoria was already seated, her parents flanking her like a shield, a baby wrapped up in her mother's arms. And Max.
Oh my god, what was he doing here? My chest pinched when I saw him, his small legs swinging in the too-big wooden pew, a colouring book and crayon on the seat beside him, like that could possibly make this normal.
He was eight. Too young to hear what was about to be said about his father. Too young to carry the weight of it.
The sight of him made bile rise in my throat again. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself forward, toward the front.
Mr. Novak, my lawyer, was already waiting, his papers spread neatly across the table. He greeted me with a nod and gestured for me to sit.
I slid into the chair beside him, the defendant’s empty chair only a few feet away. I’d imagined Andrew there so many times, imagined his smirk, the way he’d try to bend the story, the way his lies dripped like honey meant to choke. Now the chair was empty. Somehow, that was worse.
Brody sat behind me, his hand brushing my shoulder, grounding me, while my family filled the rows.
I could feel their presence at my back, warm, solid, but up here at the front, I felt exposed, under the harsh lights, with all the moments I had tried so hard to forget that led to why we were all here today running through my mind.
I risked a glance toward Victoria. Her gaze snapped to mine, sharp and unblinking. She lifted her chin, then turned deliberately to Max, smoothing his hair as though she were the picture of maternal devotion.
Before I could stop myself, I leaned slightly toward her side of the room. My voice was low, careful, but it carried.
“Victoria, he shouldn’t be here,” I said. “Max doesn’t need to hear this. Please. Take him out.”
Victoria’s eyes flashed, her lips curling. “Mind your business,” she snapped. “He’s, my son.”
My stomach twisted. Mr. Novak placed a warning hand on my wrist. “Don’t engage,” he murmured. But the damage was done, the air between us already poisoned.
The bailiff called the room to order, and the judge entered, robes flowing, expression unreadable. Everyone rose, then sat again, the scrape of wood on tile loud in the otherwise tense silence.
The judge began, voice even, eyes sweeping the room. “We are here for the matter of the Crown versus Andrew Brooks. Mr. Novak, is the Crown ready?”
Mr. Novak stood. “We are, Your Honour.”
The judge turned. “Defence?”
Andrew’s chair remained empty. His lawyer rose slowly, face pale. “Your Honour, I regret to inform the court that I have been unable to make contact with my client. He has not responded to calls, emails, or letters. I have no knowledge of his whereabouts.”
A ripple moved through the courtroom. My mother’s hand clutched at my father’s. Brody stretched one of his long legs so his foot could brush mine, steadying me. My heart hammered.
The judge’s face tightened. “We will allow a thirty-minute grace period. If Mr. Brooks fails to appear by then, we will proceed with failure-to-appear protocol.”
The words buzzed in my ears, louder than the hum of the fluorescents. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes staring at an empty chair, every tick of the clock like a needle in my chest.
The minutes dragged. My lawyer shuffled papers he didn’t need to. I counted my breaths, counted the tiles, anything to keep from unravelling. Every time the door opened, my body jolted, sure it would be him. But it never was.
When the time expired, the judge’s gavel fell with a sharp crack. “The defendant has failed to appear. A bench warrant will be issued for his arrest. Additional charges for failure to appear will be added to his case.”
The room exhaled, tension breaking. And then Victoria detonated.
She surged to her feet, her purse falling to the ground at her feet. “You bitch. This is your fault!” she screamed, jabbing a finger at me. “You ruined everything! You destroyed him, you destroyed us...”
I stood before I realized I was moving, my voice shaking but loud enough to cut through hers. “Are you serious? He did this. Not me. You know what he tried to do to me. How he attacked me. And you still blame me?”
Her face twisted, red and furious. She shoved her hair back from her face. “You’re a manipulative liar! You wanted him, you wanted this!”
Before I could answer, Clara was there, seething. “Oh, please. Everyone knows that the baby isn’t his. You were cheating too, Victoria. You two deserve each other.”
Victoria’s parents stiffened, colour draining from her father’s face.
Clara’s voice cut again, direct at them.
“Maybe you should step in. Maybe you should worry less about trying to vilify Cassidy and more about your grandchildren, because this isn't ok and they are the ones who need protecting right now.”
The judge’s gavel cracked like thunder. “Enough! One more outburst from anyone and I will hold you in contempt."
Silence dropped heavy over the room. Victoria was vibrating, her chest rising and falling, but she sat, muttering under her breath.
I sat too, though my knees trembled. The empty chair at the defence table seemed to be louder than her voice had been. Andrew was gone, vanished. Not vindicated, not punished, just absent. And that absence felt both like relief and like being dragged through our past all over again.
When the session adjourned, we filed out, our footsteps echoing in the marble hallway. The air outside the courtroom felt colder, sharper.
Brody slid into the driver’s seat beside me, his hand covering mine on my lap.
Behind us, my family followed in two cars, a convoy of protection.
His thumb traced circles over my hand, but he didn’t speak, and neither did I.
I stared out the window at the blur of trees and fields, my mind caught on that empty chair, on Victoria’s voice, on Max’s too-small legs swinging above the floor and on his little face when Victoria was screaming at me.
When we finally pulled into the driveway, the house looked softer than I remembered, with warm light spilling from the windows and Fall flower pots in full bloom by the porch.
Brody cut the engine, and for a moment, I couldn’t move.
The weight of the day pressed me into the seat.
He didn't rush me, and neither did my family.
Brody sat with me in the quiet while everyone walked into the house.
He sat with me until I was ready to move and face what came next.
Inside, the air smelled of this morning's coffee and Mom's lemon cleaner. She was already in the kitchen, fussing with mugs and the kettle like boiling water could fix what court had cracked open. Dad paced, restless energy spilling out. Adam leaned against the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight, while Judy pressed tissues into my hands I hadn’t asked for.
Dean tried to keep the calm. Chase, as always, was watchful and steady at my side.
Clara sat in a chair across from me, a worried expression on her face, with Mason hovering protectively.
Only once the hum of voices filled the kitchen did Mr. Novak arrive, his briefcase in hand, his tie loosened. He set the case on the table, his voice level.
“This isn’t the outcome we wanted,” he said plainly. “But it’s not the end. The warrant will stand. Once Andrew is found, the trial will be reset. Until then, we stay ready.”
"What about the calls Cassidy is still getting from the blocked number? Can that be traced?" Brody asked.
Mr. Novak surveyed the room and sighed, "I have requested this from the police department, but her case isn't a priority right now, and she isn't deemed to be in direct threat from Mr. Brooks. However, with his failure to appear and the bench warrant out, I can ask around and see what can be done."
I forced a smile in his direction.