Like his body had forgotten how.
“You can’t preside over this,” he said, his voice tight. “This is—this is a personal matter.”
I tilted my head slightly.
“Is it?” I asked.
The question landed heavier than any accusation.
Because now, everything in this room was on record.
Every word.
Every reaction.
Every lie.
I folded my hands on the bench.
“Let’s be clear, Mr. Salazar. This court operates on law, not personal discomfort.”
A pause.
Then, softer—but sharper:
“And today, the law has quite a lot to say about you.”
Valeria suddenly stood up from the gallery.
“This is insane,” she snapped. “She’s biased—she’s doing this for revenge—”
“Sit down,” I said.
I didn’t raise my voice.
I didn’t need to.
The authority in it dropped her back into her seat like gravity had doubled.
I turned a page in the file.
Paper against paper—soft, controlled, final.
“Before we proceed with the divorce settlement,” I continued, “this court will address several additional filings submitted late last night.”
Alejandro’s lawyer stiffened.
“What filings?”
I looked up again.
And this time, I let a small piece of that earlier smile return.
Not warm.
Not kind.
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