Her legal aid attorney, Denise Harper, leaned close.
“Did you know about this?”
Olivia shook her head.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I swear. I don’t know anything.”
Denise looked at Ethan, who had returned to his chair beside Mason. Mason had tears in his eyes now, but he was silent. Ethan put one hand over his brother’s.
Jonathan stood across the aisle speaking to his attorneys with his back turned. His shoulders were rigid. His jaw clenched and unclenched.
The calm mask was slipping.
Victoria Reed watched Ethan as if he were a stranger who had wandered into her family by mistake.
Then Jonathan turned.
His eyes found his son.
The look lasted only a second, but Olivia saw it.
So did Ethan.
It was not disappointment.
It was not hurt.
It was threat.
Olivia leaned forward instinctively.
“Ethan,” she whispered.
He didn’t look away from his father.
“I’m okay, Mom.”
But he was nine years old.
No nine-year-old who said those words in court was okay.
Twenty-seven minutes later, the judge returned.
The courtroom rose.
Everyone sat again.
But something had changed.
The judge’s face was no longer neutral. His expression had hardened into something colder, heavier.
He looked down at the file before him, then at Jonathan Reed.
“Mr. Reed,” he said, “are you aware of what is on this drive?”
Jonathan adjusted his cufflink.
“I am not, Your Honor.”
“Your office computer appears in several of the files.”
Jonathan’s attorney stood quickly.
