Chapter 35
The cold courtroom smelled faintly of wood polish and old newspapers, a scent heavy with years of judgment. Every creak of the hard, wooden benches echoed in the quiet space as the judge sat like a stone sentinel, gavel resting ominously beside him, ready to hear the final arguments.
The tension was palpable as my fingers curled tightly around the gold chain my parents got me for my twenty-first birthday, twisting the delicate metal to ease my anxiety as I sat at the defendant’s table.
Dad cleared his throat behind me, but I didn’t turn around, too caught up in the moment and feeling like a sopping wet blanket was wrapped around my already frozen body.
This was awful—not just the hearing, but everything that led up to it.
Me anxiously pacing outside until Dad had to all but drag me up the stairs.
Turning around every fifteen seconds in the hopes I’d see Maverick towering over the other spectators in the courtroom.
The not-so-subtle scoffing and throat clearing from Trey’s heavily pregnant fiancée as she kept adjusting her posture on the benches.
The culmination of everything that led to this moment made me want to crawl under a goose down comforter and hibernate until spring.
But then I remembered Aunt Camilla—a woman I’d never gotten the chance to know, but who wanted me to benefit from the life she’d led—and knew that I owed it to her to fight.
This was more than an inheritance. This was me standing up to a bully and closing the door to that part of my past. Taking back my independence and self-respect.
Sure, since I gave Trey the house, the funds were something I desperately needed to ease my burden and find a place close to Dad.
But mostly, it was about principle—about protecting the gift my aunt passed along.
It was about holding onto family, about honoring a woman I never knew, but who still deserved to have her legacy preserved.
The gavel banged and the judge called court back in session, so I steadied my breathing to focus on closing statements.
I couldn’t help but side-eye Trey, the douche, without turning my head.
He looked immaculate as always in his custom suit, polished cufflinks, and a smirk that made me cringe.
He’d started this nonsense, filing the suit claiming that my inheritance belonged to him by marital right, but I’d end it today, showing him I was anything but a doormat.
“Ms. Winston?” my attorney, Vanessa, said quietly. “It’s almost over.”
Almost.
The hours of testimony had been a blur—documents, wills, witnesses who remembered what we were like when married.
Financial forensics combing through our failed marriage, checking off boxes in the hopes it would lead to a definite decision.
The sting of the morning had come with Trey’s testimony.
He answered the questions asked with charm, twisting our shared history into something that made me look like a woman scorned.
The judge shuffled the papers before him, and the room went so still I could hear my heartbeat. It sounded like a drum, thumping to a tempo no one else knew. “Mr. Grant, you may proceed with your closing argument.”
Trey’s slimy lawyer stood, adjusting his tie and stepping around the table. “Thank you, Your Honor. This case isn’t about greed—”
“He’s lying already,” I whispered to Vanessa, who jotted something down on her yellow legal pad and nodded.
“I know. Let him dig his hole.”
“—it’s about fairness. Mr. Jordan supported his wife throughout the years of their marriage, including when she inherited this estate. Without his contribution, her lifestyle would not have been possible.”
“Aunt Camilla left that to me, not us. We’d never met and she had no idea that I’d even been married,” I said through gritted teeth, clenching my fists in my lap so tightly, my nails dug into my palms. The sharp pain helped me see through the fog of bitterness, until Trey’s voice cut across the courtroom.
“And we were married at the time, Summer. What’s yours was ours. That was your saying, remember?”
My eyes widened with Trey’s words, not realizing how loud I’d spoken.
“Mr. Jordan, you will speak only through your counsel,” the judge said, raising his gavel like he was itching to bring it down.
“Of course, Your Honor,” Trey said, leaning back and smirking.
I barely heard the rest of his lawyer’s closing statement, too consumed with justified anger.
Would the judge take his comment to heart and award him half?
With the way his sob story was woven, maybe the judge would believe that I’d driven him into another woman’s arms and award him the entirety for his pain and suffering.
I could feel myself spiraling, and I put my elbows on the table and closed my eyes until the feeling passed.
“We prepared for this, remember? The lies and scheming. Try to focus on the end game,” Vanessa said, patting my arm and arranging the papers laying on the table. “We’re so close.”
“Mrs. Burke. Your closing argument, please.”
I nodded to her, closing my eyes briefly as she stood, her heels tapping on the hardwood floor. Her presence radiated confidence as she walked toward the judge, commanding the room.
“Your Honor. This will be short and to the point. The will is clear. Camilla Ainsley designated Summer Winston as her sole beneficiary. The estate is not, and never has been, marital property. The plaintiff has provided no documentation, no prenuptial agreement, and no joint ownership that would give Mr. Jordan any type of legal claim. What we have provided is the original, notarized will, expert testimony on its validity, and witness statements confirming Mrs. Ainsley’s intent before her passing. ”
“Intent can be subjective, Your Honor,” Trey’s lawyer sneered, interrupting Vanessa’s final words.
“Yes, but the law is not,” she snipped, tilting her head and raising a brow.
“Counsel, I’ve read the will. There’s nothing subjective about it,” the judge added.
“She’s trying to cut me out like I never existed,” Trey exclaimed, standing up and pointing an accusing finger my way.
The judge paused, looking between us. “That’s it. I’ve heard enough.”
Silence filled the court room as Trey sat down with a huff and Vanessa gave me a reassuring nod.
I’d pushed all thoughts of Maverick away as I’d dealt with this nightmare, but now, as the silence enveloped me, all I could think about was the hurt and pain that flashed across his features when we last spoke.
Of my overreaction and his defensiveness, cutting through what we had like a serrated knife.
It had hurt—his words. Perhaps it was because I’d fallen so fast, or maybe because I truly thought things could be different, but they’d cut deeper than when I’d walked in to see Trey’s white ass in the air, working his secretary overtime.
“In the matter of Jordan versus Winston,” the judge began as I inhaled sharply, feeling the cold air scorch my lungs and burn my throat. “The court has reviewed the evidence, the testimony, and the applicable law.”
He glanced up briefly, his gaze darting to Trey and then lingering on me. “The will in question was found to be valid, explicit, and unambiguous. The assets left by the late Camilla Ainsley are the sole and separate property of her niece, Summer Winston.”
My breath caught as I exhaled, closing my eyes and pressing my hand to my chest. I didn’t dare look at Trey, but I heard a loud, feminine scoff and could only assume his fiancée was not happy with the verdict.
I dropped my head into my hands, closing my eyes and willing tears not to spill over as the judge continued to speak.
“It is therefore the judgment of this court that the plaintiff, Trey Jordan, has no legal claim to the inheritance. This court is adjourned.”
The gavel came down, the sound cracking through my chest like lightning breaking through the clouds during a storm. My eyes snapped open, and I lifted my head, chancing another look across the aisle at Trey, whose jaw had tightened and smirk had disappeared.
He gathered the papers spread across the table with too much precision, neatly organizing them while refusing to look at me.
For a fleeting moment, I felt overwhelming pity—then I remembered the sleepless nights, harsh words, and threats.
I remembered the way he’d made me feel like I was fighting an unwinnable war, borne from something that he made out to be my fault.
“We did it. You did it, Summer. We won,” Vanessa said, squeezing my shoulder before standing and adjusting her pinstripe suit jacket.
I managed a weak but genuine smile, nodding my head and placing my hand over hers. With another squeeze, she let go and brought her briefcase to the table, gathering her legal pad and promising to send me a copy of the verdict once it was filed.
“Thank you for everything, Vanessa. Once again, your team came through.”
She smiled and nodded, snapping her briefcase shut. “Believe me, it was our pleasure. There’s nothing worse than a scheming ex who thinks he’s entitled to something he’s not.”
“That’s the truth,” I said, this verdict feeling less like a victory and more like release. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stood with trembling knees as Vanessa smiled and headed out of the courtroom.
I walked past Trey without a word, slipping into the bench beside Dad. I laid my head on his shoulder as he put his arm around me, kissing the top of my head. “I’m so proud of you, Summer.”
That phrase had my eyes getting watery again as we watched the room empty. A whiff of Trey’s cologne assaulted my nose as he walked by, but I didn’t bother to look his way or acknowledge his existence. The weight of my worries wasn’t gone, but it had lessened, and for right now, that was enough.
“Should we grab a bite to eat? Maybe at that salad place you’ve been on me about trying? I doubt you’d agree to join me for a stiff drink.”
I chuckled and raised my head, smiling at Dad, who returned the gesture. “A light beer for you, perhaps. And salad for lunch? Really? Should I check you for a fever?”
“Nah. But I saw the menu you not so subtly left on the kitchen counter and the Italian salad looked promising.”
“Leave it to you to choose a salad filled with processed meat and cheese, old man.”
“Hey now,” he said, standing from the hard bench and stretching. His movements were barely strained these days, and I couldn’t help but be proud of the progress he’d made since I moved in. “It’s not my fault that place offers pepperoni, salami, and sharp provolone.”
“Hmm. I suppose not. It’s not like I expected you to order the one with chickpeas and alfalfa sprouts.”
“Take me straight to the hospital if I ever do that, will ya?”
He reached down, holding his hand out to me, and I grasped his palm and stood.
I glanced at the remaining people in the room—hoping Maverick might still have shown up—and felt my mood dampen when I didn’t see him.
My traitorous heart beat erratically, and my kitten heels clicked as we made our way out of the room and through the courthouse.