He checked his gold watch, annoyed that he even had to make a personal appearance for what he considered a routine eviction of a rebellious tenant.
Trailing closely behind him were Evelyn, Jasmine, and Todd.
They filed into the wooden pews directly behind the plaintiff’s table, treating the federal courthouse like a VIP viewing deck at a reality television finale.
Evelyn wore a pristine lavender tailored dress, her hair perfectly quafted, whispering loudly to Jasmine about where they should make reservations for their victory brunch.
Jasmine held a designer iced coffee, actively texting on her phone and giggling.
Todd was the only one not smiling.
He looked physically ill.
The SEC audit notice Malik had slid across the deposition table two days ago had clearly shattered his entire nervous system.
His skin was a sickly translucent shade.
His knee bounced frantically against the wooden bench.
Todd was staring at the back of Warren’s head with pure unadulterated desperation.
He genuinely believed that if Warren seized my townhouse today, the equity could somehow be liquidated fast enough to pay off his furious investors and keep the federal agents away from his door.
I was clinging to a sinking ship, hoping my destruction would be his life raft.
I sat entirely alone at the heavy oak defense table.
I did not wear the muted beige colors of a defeated tax clerk today.
I wore a tailored crimson suit that fit like armor.
I had no legal pads, no messy stacks of printed emails, and no nervous energy.
Resting perfectly parallel to the edge of the desk in front of me was a single thick black folder.
My attorney, Malik, was conspicuously absent.
We had orchestrated this exact scenario during a late night strategy session in my corporate war room.
Malik was currently sitting in his vehicle in the parking garage across the street, drinking an espresso and waiting for my signal.
I needed Warren to step into the courtroom and see me completely isolated.
I needed him to believe that his aggressive legal tactics had successfully scared my discount lawyer into abandoning me at the 11th hour.
Sterling, my father’s high-priced bulldog attorney, sat at the plaintiff’s table.
Unlike Warren, Sterling, looked like he had not slept a single minute since the deposition.
He knew exactly what that SEC notice meant.
He knew Warren had committed catastrophic perjury on the official record by boasting about his corporate wire transfers.
Sterling was a trapped man.
Warren had undoubtedly threatened to destroy his law firm if he did not secure this summary judgement today.
Seeing my table empty gave Sterling a dangerous, fleeting surge of false hope.
He thought he could bulldoze the proceedings before the federal authorities officially froze every single asset tied to the Warren name.
The heavy wooden door behind the bench opened.
The baleiff instructed the courtroom to rise.
The Honorable Patricia Jenkins took her seat.
She was a striking African-Amean woman in her mid-50s, wearing her black judicial robe with commanding authority.
She adjusted her glasses, peering down at the docket, and immediately noticed the glaring imbalance in the room.
Her sharp eyes scanned my empty table, then darted over to the plaintiff’s side, where Warren was sitting with his chest puffed out, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
Are you proceeding prosy this morning, Miss Kloe?
Judge Jenkins asked, her voice echoing clearly through the high ceiling room.
Your council of record is not present.
I stood up, keeping my posture perfectly straight.
My council was unfortunately delayed by severe traffic on the interstate.
Your honor, I replied, my voice smooth and unwavering.
However, I am fully prepared to proceed with the summary judgement hearing on my own behalf.
A loud, arrogant scoff erupted from the gallery behind me.
Jasmine did not even bother to cover her mouth.
Evelyn patted Jasmine’s knee, shaking her head in mock pity.
Warren leaned back in his leather chair, a wide, predatory grin spreading across his face.
He thought he had already won.
He thought the judge was about to hand him the deed to my home simply because I was an unrepresented woman standing against a seasoned corporate litigator.
Sterling immediately seized the opening.
He jumped to his feet, buttoning his suit jacket, eager to finish this execution before the floor fell out from under him.
Your honor, Sterling, began his voice booming with manufactured outrage.
We are requesting an immediate default judgment in favor of my client.
We have submitted a legally binding promisory note demonstrating that Mr. Warren provided a $200,000 loan to the defendant.
The defendant has completely failed to meet her financial obligations.
Furthermore, she has displayed a pattern of deep financial instability and deceit.
