Eleanor's POV.
“Where's your client at, Miss. Hart?" The city defender asks me for the third time in the last hour.
“He'll be here," I reply confidently.
I excused myself, stepping out of the courtroom, and pushing out of the large heavy, wooden doors into the expansive hallway. Morning court had always been my favorite. Something about the reverence in the morning.
It was always the calm before the afternoon chaos. I walked past the quiet whispers of people communing outside of courtrooms. The bright sun was a welcomed warmth as I reached the glass doors of the entrance.
My only communication with Paul was when I was hiding in the bathroom in my mother's hotel room. It was a brief reprieve after the conclusion of the ball. She had insisted that I stay the night, spinning some st
