The Second Time

The Second Time
Tristan's POV
The courthouse hallway smelled like polished wood and something stale underneath it like secrets that had been sitting too long. It felt like the kind of place where lives unraveled in whispers instead of screams.
I paced. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Maria stood near one of the tall windows, her tablet tucked under her arm, her phone pressed against her ear for the fourth time.
“Rowan, call me back. Immediately,” she said sharply before hanging up again. She exhaled through her nose. “Straight to voicemail. Again.” She was growing frustrated as well.
My jaw tightened. Rowan never missed hearings except with me for my prelim hearings. I do remember he missed a court case once for someone else. He had shown up with a fractured wrist, which meant this wasn’t forgetfulness. It was deliberate or something had gone very wrong. But given the fact that he missed my previous hearing, it was to do with Alex and Camille, which wasn’t even important, but that also doesn’t make me confident that he had told me there was no way I could win this case because these people were onto me... Grace and Lucenti PR and VFS.
I stopped pacing and dragged a hand down my face. My phone felt like the only stable object in this building, so I pulled it from my pocket. Notifications glowed against the screen. But only one mattered. Elona’s text.
Elona: I’m thinking about you. I know today is heavy. Just breathe. I love you.
The hallway disappeared. For a moment, I could see her at VFS in her black leggings, her posture rigid, heels forcing elegance out of pain. Rehearsing under fluorescent lights while pretending the world wasn’t pressing in on her from every direction.
My thumbs hovered before I typed back.
Me: I miss you. I hope this all blows over soon. I love you more than anything.
I read it once.
Twice.
And then I sent it. The message delivered instantly. I slipped my phone away and lifted my head and that’s when I saw Grace and Delance. Grace stood stiff beside Delance in a crisp black suit, hands clasped tightly in front of her as if she were the injured party. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders. She looked smaller than I remembered. But her eyes widened when they met mine. They were frightened and glossy as if I had cornered her again, as if she were the victim. My stomach twisted.
Delance stood beside her like carved marble, her chin lifted, her posture was immaculate, and her lips were painted that deliberate red that never smudged. She didn’t look at me directly at first. She assessed and calculated, and then her gaze locked onto mine. It was cold, she didn’t even blink. Grace shifted half a step behind her. I shook my head once, disgust curling inside me.
I stepped closer to Maria, deliberately turning my back on them.
“Anything?” I asked quietly.
Maria lowered her phone. “Nothing. Rowan’s assistant hasn’t responded either.”
My heart pounded against my ribs so violently I thought it might split my chest open, but I smoothed my jacket and adjusted my cuffs. Masking it with my aloof extertior.
A bailiff opened the courtroom doors. “It’s time.”
I took a deep breath as we entered the courtroom. It felt suffocating to me. We took our seats. The courtroom felt colder than the hallway. The benches creaked as people settled. Paper shuffled like dry leaves.
And yet.... still no Rowan.
I kept my eyes forward. I refused to look at Grace.
“All rise.” We stood up. The judge entered, her sharp eyes were scanning the room like she could smell weakness and then she sat.
“You may be seated.” She said, we took our seats again. “Mr. Crane,” she began evenly, “I understand your legal counsel is not present.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” I said, my voice was steady. “We are attempting to contact him.”
“This is not the first delay request.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a man standing up from the other side of the aisle. “Your Honor, the plaintiff is prepared to proceed,” he said smoothly.
I didn’t want to look. But I did. He wore a dark suit. It had impeccable tailoring. He seemed to be in his mid-forties. He had a confident stance. It seemed like Grace’s lawyer didn’t show up either, because he is definitely not her lawyer from yesterday.
“Mr. Alex Mendez,” the judge addressed him.
My ears rang.
Mendez.
Alex Mendez.
The name punched through my skull. I had never met him, but I knew the name. He was the lawyer whose name had surfaced on the Will Amendments that Estelle had signed behind my back. He is Camille’s lawyer regarding my house and Rowan went to see him. Now, he was representing Grace. My pulse thundered.
Where the fuck are you Rowan?
The judge’s voice cut through my thoughts. “I will grant one final extension. The preliminary hearing is moved to tomorrow. Failure to have legal representation present at that time will result in proceedings continuing as submitted.”
Alex cleared his throat. “Your Honor, my client has already suffered emotional distress and reputational harm due to these delays.”
The judge’s expression hardened. “My decision is final, Mr. Mendez.”
There was silence and then he sat down.
Maria leaned towards me. “You look pale,” she whispered. “Do you know him?”
“I’ve heard of him,” I said tightly.
“He’s aggressive.”
“He’s connected,” I replied. He has to be connected with everything that’s going on with me. The pieces felt like they were moving again, rearranging themselves into something uglier.
The court was dismissed. Chairs scraped loudly. Voices rose. Files snapped shut and I stood up quickly. I didn’t look at Grace and I didn’t look at Delance. I didn’t trust my face.
Once we stepped into the hallway, Maria caught my arm. I looked over at her. “I’ll find Rowan,” she said firmly. “And if I can’t, I’ll secure someone else. Immediately.”
“And Mendez?” I asked.
She frowned. “Do you need me to find out anything specific?”
“No,” I replied. “But he was involved in legal matters regarding my house. And my late wife’s Will amendments.”
She went still. “Gosh, I didn’t know you were having problems to do with your house.” She shook her head, wheels spinning in her mind. “That’s not coincidence,” she said quietly.
“I don’t believe in coincidence anymore.”
“I’ll dig.” I nodded. “We Will get through this,” she tried to reassure me giving a small smile before she walked away.
I turned toward the exit, to leave after her but someone stepped directly into my path.
Alex Mendez.
Up close, his smile was practiced. “Tristan,” he said smoothly. “Unfortunate circumstances.”
“I’ve never met you,” I replied flatly.
“But you’ve heard of me.”
“Yes.” I scowled at him. What was he on about now?
“Then you know I prefer efficiency.”
“I prefer truth,” I said coldly.
He tilted his head slightly. “Truth is negotiable. Optics are not.”
“Why are you involved?” I asked bluntly.
“Professional obligation.”
“For Grace?”
“For my client.”
“And who is your client?” I pressed.
There was a pause. “My clients are confidential.”
“Really?”
He smiled faintly. “I represent several individuals in related matters.”
Camille. The thought slammed into me. “Is Camille Paine one of them?” I asked.
His expression didn’t change. “I don’t discuss other clients.” There it was, but he continued calmly, “You’re delaying the inevitable. A public apology would end this.”
“And if I refuse?” I challenged him. Technically, if I apologized publicly, it would make me look guilty, as if I had done those things that Grace had said, except the Lucenti confrontation was the only truth of it all.
“Then everyone involved will be questioned. The confrontation. Your business dealings. Past disputes. It won’t be limited to this incident.”
“Speak to my lawyer,” I said evenly.
“If he appears,” he replied.
I stepped around him and walked out. I didn’t want to have any more conversations with him. The courthouse doors opened and the media exploded.
“Mr. Crane!”
“Why was the hearing delayed?”
“Are there other allegations coming?”
Flashes blinded me. Microphones were shoved in my face. Security was thinner than usual. Another vulnerability.
I said nothing. I just kept walking. By the time I reached my car, my hands were shaking. Inside, the silence was suffocating.
Was this orchestrated?
Had this been building longer than I realized?
Had Estelle’s amendments tied something to Camille?
Had Alex been protecting something all along? Or covering something?
I drove home on autopilot. When I stepped inside, the house felt unchanged. Camille wasn’t home because her car wasn’t in the driveway. But I didn’t trust any of it anymore. I had to find new legal representation as soon as possible.