Chapter 8: The Hearing
The family court hearing was scheduled for a Thursday morning in November.
Julian arrived with an attorney I didn't recognize — someone new, someone he had presumably found and paid for with money that wasn't mine, because mine was still frozen.
He looked composed.
He had recovered the performance by then, the careful, reasonable presentation he wore like a second skin.
Darcy arrived with a rolling case of documents and Petra Voss sitting three rows behind us in the gallery.
Julian's attorney opened by arguing that the asset freeze was disproportionate and should be lifted pending the outcome of the divorce proceedings.
He spoke for eleven minutes.
He used the word "reasonable" seven times.
Darcy stood up.
She played the kitchen recording first.
Julian's voice filled the courtroom — the hissing command, the sixty-dish ultimatum, the metallic click of the deadbolt.
She let it run for ninety seconds and then stopped it.
She presented the forensic accountant's report.
Four hundred and twelve thousand dollars.
Itemized.
Dated.
Traced.
She presented the fraudulent loan documents with my co-signature alongside the original loan application, which bore a different signature on the co-signer line — a signature that did not match mine, submitted to the lender before Julian had obtained my signature on the version I had seen.
"Two versions of the same document," Darcy said to the judge.
"The version submitted to the lender, and the version shown to my client.
The co-signer signature on the lender copy is not my client's signature.
We have a handwriting analysis confirming this.
My client's signature was obtained on a separate document under false pretenses and was never the signature that appeared on the filed loan application.
My client was not a co-signer.
She was a prop."
Julian's attorney leaned over and spoke quietly in his ear.
Julian shook his head once, sharply.
Then Darcy played the conference room recording.
Julian's voice again, offering a settlement in exchange for withdrawing the fraud complaint, then threatening to damage Darcy's professional standing.
Marcus's voice, calm and clear: *You just made a threat against an officer of the court in front of a witness.*
The judge looked at Julian over her reading glasses for a long moment.
Julian's attorney stood.
"Your Honor, my client would like to request a brief recess to—"
"Denied," the judge said.
She looked back at her notes.
"The asset freeze will remain in place.
I am referring the fraudulent loan documentation to the financial crimes division for independent review.
I am also noting the recorded threat against opposing counsel for the record." She set her pen down.
"Mr.
Marsh, I would strongly encourage you to instruct your client to cooperate fully with the financial crimes review.
Attempting to obstruct or delay that process would be inadvisable."
Julian said nothing.
His attorney put a hand on his arm.
Outside the courtroom, in the marble corridor, I stood with Darcy while she packed her case.
"That's not the end of it," I said.
"The financial crimes review could take months."
"It could," Darcy agreed.
"But the freeze holds.
He can't move money, he can't liquidate assets, and his new attorney now knows exactly what kind of client he has." She snapped the case shut.
"He'll settle, Sloan.
Within sixty days.
Men like Julian don't have the stamina for a long fight when they're already losing."
Behind us, the courtroom doors opened.
Julian walked out with his attorney.
He passed within three feet of me.
He didn't look at me.
He looked straight ahead, jaw set, eyes forward, the walk of a man who had run out of moves but hadn't admitted it yet.
His attorney steered him toward the elevator.
The doors opened.
They stepped in.
Julian looked up once, just before the doors closed.
Our eyes met for exactly one second.
The doors closed.
I turned back to Darcy.
"Sixty days?" I said.
May you like
"Sixty days," she said.
"Maybe fifty."
