Even Judge Carter’s stern expression changed.
Eleanor turned toward the doors. “Ms. Grant.”
A silver-haired woman carrying two thick black folders entered between the security men. I recognized her immediately from television. Naomi Grant had argued cases before the Supreme Court, dismantled international corporations, and once forced a governor to resign before lunchtime.
She placed the folders on the clerk’s table.
“Your Honor,” Naomi said, “we are requesting an immediate suspension of today’s judgment based on fraudulent financial disclosures, concealed evidence, and a criminal conspiracy connected to the petitioner.”
Julian shot to his feet.
“This is insane. You can’t storm into my divorce hearing and—”
“Sit down,” Judge Carter ordered.
Julian remained standing.
For the first time since I had met him, his confidence looked fragile.
His attorney, Raymond Pike, pulled urgently at his sleeve. “Julian, sit.”
Julian obeyed, but his eyes were fixed on Eleanor.
Not with confusion.
With recognition.
A cold sensation moved down my spine.
“You know her,” I whispered.
Julian’s jaw tightened.
Eleanor heard me.
“Yes,” she said. “He does.”
My knees nearly gave way. Eleanor caught my arm and guided me back into the chair. She sat beside me, still holding my hand as though she feared I might vanish again.
Naomi opened the first folder.
“Thirty years ago, Eleanor Sterling gave birth to a healthy daughter at Saint Matthew’s Hospital. During a false fire alarm, the infant disappeared from the maternity ward. A nurse named Margaret Vale reported seeing smoke in the western corridor and ordered an evacuation.”
Naomi removed an old photograph and placed it before Judge Carter.
It showed a dark-haired nurse wearing a white uniform.
I heard Julian inhale sharply.
