The heavy wooden door creaked open, sending a hush rippling through the tense courtroom. All eyes turned towards the entrance and Serena's breath caught in her throat.
A stooped, gray-haired man shuffled in slowly, his shoulders weighed down by age and sorrow. It was John Hawthorne, her family's loyal driver and trusted confidante for as long as she could remember.
Despite his wrinkled brow, thinning hair, and the stoop of his aging frame, those warm brown eyes still held the same gentle kindness that used to greet her after school on hard days.
Serena felt a lump form in her throat as a flood of memories came rushing back. Flashes of birthday parties where John would slip her an extra present, family dinners filled with his boisterous laughter, and long car rides spent listening to
