–Livana–
There are only two families in the courtroom—ours and hers. Only my father and his daughter are seated on my step-mother's side. I can sense the tension humming under Grandma Olivia's stillness; she is trying very, very hard not to kill the girl she was forced to raise—the living reminder of my grandfather's infidelity.
I keep my sunglasses on and my hat low. My husband sits to my left, our fingers interlaced, a silent tether. Beside him is Grandma Olivia, and next to her is Grandpa Reagan. Behind us, our bodyguards stand in quiet vigilance, dressed discreetly so as not to draw attention but unmistakably present.
I almost expected Tyrona to appear, but pregnancy gives cowards a convenient exit strategy. She has likely fled to another country. I do not follow her movements. My attention is reserved for larger things than frightened women running from consequences.
