Sterling Price had selected a small corner in the upscale café across from Hayes Enterprises where the meeting would take place. The evening shadows fell on modern décor, glassware atop tables clinking under soft whispers from other diners. Caspian and Celeste were just in time to see him sitting by a frosted window, a slight smile on his upturned mouth. The tension in the air was palpable — here was the elusive "anonymous source," who had dangled evidence of Soren's corruption in front of them.
Sterling waved them to sit casually. He radiated confidence in a tailored suit, his eyes darting between Caspian's defensive posturing and Celeste's confident resolve. "I take it you figured out I'm the one behind the offer," he started, calm as can be. He steepled his fingers, enjoying their caution. "You want to screw a guilty Soren in the dock? I have the dirt to bury him."
Caspian's chest tightened. Just the idea of taking help from Sterling was like poison. "We are not going to shortchange the company," he said. "If you think we will turn over shares or let you take the helm, you're wrong." His voice had the sharpness of hard-earned bitterness. Celeste watched Sterling's every inhale across the table, a trap patiently coiling in wait.
A low chuckle escaped from Sterling. "My dear boy, you are so earnest," he responded. "I don't need you to sign over everything, just a controlling interest enough to assure me your father stays out of the picture. I am steering the ship; you are taking care of the day-to-day. Everyone wins." He shrugged as if it was the easiest arrangement in the world.
Celeste's eyes narrowed. She thought of all of the devious alliances that Sterling had put into place, his habit of betraying people as soon as they were no longer useful to him. "And who's to stop you from abandoning us as soon as you get power?" she said, her voice deceptively gentle. Sterling tilted his head, acknowledging the way she saw things. "I like profitable partnerships. But you should think of me as the lesser of two evils, as compared to Soren's scorched-earth method."
Caspian stood, fury surging. "No," he said firmly, decisively, no. "We'll find another path." Sterling's gaze drifted to Celeste, curiosity lacing his steadiness. Something in her expression triggered an idea in him — she had the look of someone figuring out how to upend his scheme. But he just smiled faintly, unfazed. He reached into his coat pocket and slid a thin manila envelope across the table.
"You'll need me," Sterling said again softly, "when the court turns on you." 9. The voice carried quiet conviction. Caspian stayed frozen, stomach turned at how effortlessly Sterling read the tenuous status of the upcoming hearing. In the stillness that followed, Celeste rested a hand lightly on Caspian's arm, indicating they should go. Sterling watched them leave, cool eyes betraying a glimmer of victory. He already felt the seeds of desperation taking root, knowing his unscrupulous lifeline would soon prove impossible to ignore.
Morning light gilded the steps of the courthouse in cold gold when Caspian and Celeste showed up. A small knot of reporters had gathered already, microphones up, cameras in position. The silence that greeted them as they walked in made Celeste's heart race. The corridors hummed with murmurs of whispered conversations, shuffle of lawyers hunched over files. At her side, she felt Roman's reassuring presence, and behind her, Talia fell with a tense determination on her face.
Inside the courtroom, Soren's lawyers filled one table, their suits sharp, looks sharper. They were confident, sharing a stack of documents among them. Caspian watched them with caution, insomnia-riddled eyes darting to the judge who sat at the bench—an official said to be in Soren's back pocket. The judge, who was middle-aged and carried himself with an imperious gait, was known for making quick decisions and showing little patience for "emotional appeals."
As the proceedings began, Soren's lawyers unveiled their narrative. They introduced doctored evidence of Celeste's alleged manipulations: old transcripts manipulated to imply that she had colluded with a mortgage lender, audio snippets taken out of context, every piece crafted to portray her as a fortune-seeker who lured Caspian into wedlock. Celeste held back a jolt of freaking anger at every exhibit as she remembered how these were very different half-truths. Caspian's hand trembled beneath hers; each accusation dug deep within him, and the tension in his grip gave it away.
Soren, sitting near his lawyers, gazed calmly but occasionally leaned over to whisper instructions. His calm demeanor suggested he was confident that the judge's sympathies were with him. Celeste's heart hammered as the day dragged on, every accusation sapping more color from Caspian's face. But Soren's allegations were met with muttered disagreement; she took comfort in how some board members sitting in the gallery reacted. Not everyone bought this manufactured smear.
Just as Soren's side appeared to be sailing to a triumphant end late in the afternoon, Talia sprung into the courtroom with a bang. She bore a thick folder of documents, breath coming in panicked gulps. "I have new evidence," she called out, her voice ringing in the hush. She shot a look at Soren, who just raised an eyebrow. Talia walked to the bench, extending the file. Her hands trembled, but her eyes blazed with anger and determination.
The judge stared at the documents with a dull gaze. For an awkward while, tension crackled — would he even approve these exhibits? Talia's heart raced, and Celeste could have sworn a flash of shame crossed his brow as he flipped through the pages. Roman and Caspian shared a brief, hopeful glance. But the judge paused, looking over at Soren's lawyers as though silently challenging the motivation behind a last-minute disclosure. Confusion rippled through the crowd. Celeste's stomach twisted at the thought; she knew how precarious their situation still was, hinging on a single man's discretion at a time of swirling political forces.
The courtroom was alive with an energy of restlessness as Talia took her place on the witness stand. The crowd fell silent, each bit of testimony potentially swinging the entire case. Judge Hawthorne tapped his gavel, the sharp crack bringing a tense silence back. Soren was seated at the defendant's table, his posture disturbingly relaxed, and his eyes bouncing between Talia and the judge like a predator watching and waiting. Caspian hovered beside his own counsel, heartbeat pounding with erratic rhythms. Celeste, sitting just behind him, touched quaking fingers to her collar, silently praying Talia's words could shatter Soren's grip.
Talia took a breath, her voice steady even though she was nervous. "Caspian's leadership has been sabotaged by Soren Montague paying off key people, including staff and outside affiliates. He mounted an avalanche campaign against Celeste. He financed hush money to prevent her mortgage relief. These documents —" She pointed at the folder the judge had reluctantly permitted. "They describe transactions, they describe secret recordings, all connecting Soren to a web of corruption." Murmurs rippled through the crowd, some people leaning forward, effortfully straining to hear every word.
Soren's lawyers objected, asking to witness the chain of custody of each piece of evidence. The judge raised a hand, fatigued from the unending seesaw. "Let her finish," he said, although his voice had no warmth. Talia took a shaky breath and unfolded a story of rigged contracts and hidden payoffs, each word chipping away at the face of paternal benevolence Soren had built.
Soren held a pleasant smile across the room, but the tension tightened in his fingertips, perched against the edge of the table. Then he looked over his shoulder and made a small gesture to a man sitting in the back row. The man quietly rose and slipped out of the courtroom. Nobody else seemed to catch on except Celeste, who saw the silent transmission and felt a jolt of alarm.
Minutes later, when the hearing briefly broke for recess, Roman stepped outside to get more documents from his car. Celeste attempted to make eye contact, concerned about that mystery exit, but Roman gave her a reassuring nod.) Moments after he closed the doors behind him, a startled cry emerged from beyond the heavy wooden doors. The corridor rang with urgent voices. Talia raced outside and saw Roman propped against a wall, panting, faint bruises creeping up his shoulder. A fallen display case cast shards of broken glass crunching underfoot. It looked as if a stranger had charged into him, almost knocking him down the stairs. Roman looked around for the attacker, but whoever it was had disappeared.
He rubbed his shoulder as he caught Talia's anxious gaze. "A warning," he said haltingly, remembering the figure muttering something about "accidents" befalling those who interfere. Talia gulped, a thousand images of terror streaming through her mind. Inside the courtroom, Soren's face betrayed nothing, but Celeste was certain he planned it — yet another display of power meant to intimidate them into silence. But a flash of determination coursed through her veins. She walked back to Caspian's side, prepared to see the hearing through, come whatever mortal dangers Soren's final gambits might pose.