The judge entered the courtroom with the slow, practiced confidence of a man who had spent half a lifetime walking toward a bench. Athena's heart thudded once before settling into a steady rhythm.
She watched him climb the three broad wooden steps and settle into the high-backed leather seat that overlooked the entire court.
The High Court of the state would always seem intimidating to people, with its polished mahogany panels, its tall windows draped with burgundy curtains, and its rows of benches arranged like the ribs of a giant beast waiting to swallow the guilty whole.
But not her. Anticipation was what she felt.
Today though, the place felt charged—alive with expectation.
The air was thick with the soft hum of whispers, the subtle shifting of chairs, the rustle of papers. The gallery was packed. Spectators leaned forward, hungry for the final day of a trial that had already upended the internet twice over.
