Ella
“Objection, Your Honor!”
The courtroom was thick with tension, so palpable that it felt like a heavy blanket draped over everyone present. The high ceilings held shadows of statues from times long past, the weight of justice and history pushing down. The golden chandeliers that hung from the ceilings almost seemed to be swaying slightly, their dull glow illuminating the wooden panels which lined the room, giving it an age-old grandeur.
Mr. Westbrook, seasoned and reputed for his shark-like tactics in the courtroom, seemed momentarily caught off guard by my objection.
He blinked, his gray eyebrows knitting together as he processed the implications of what was unfolding. As his gaze locked onto mine, I could see a storm swirling in those deep-set blue eyes.
“Sustain
