Chapter 9 - The First Hearing
The courthouse hallway smelled of wet wool and burnt coffee. Rain darkened Hannah's shoulders when she arrived Wednesday afternoon, carrying two binders and the original September consent in a protective sleeve.
Nathan rose from the bench. “Grace says Avery asked whether judges make children go home.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That she stays with people who keep her safe. That I'm here about company land.”
Hannah nodded. “Keep those questions separate. Today is a narrow civil application. Nobody is deciding everything about your family.”
Across the hall, Victor adjusted his cuffs beside his attorney. He looked rested. Nathan had spent the night listening for footsteps in Grace's house, waking when Milo coughed, checking the hallway without entering Avery's room.
Sabrina arrived with Martin Vale. Her dark-blonde hair was tied low; the expensive earrings were absent. When she saw Nathan, she took one step toward him. Martin touched her elbow, and she stopped.
“Nathan,” she said. “You know what this is doing to me.”
Hannah moved beside him. “Any communication can go through counsel.”
They entered a small courtroom with no gallery full of wedding guests. A clerk called the matter. Nathan sat behind Hannah and placed both feet flat on the floor so the trembling in his legs would not show.
Victor's lawyer began with urgency: a scheduled closing, a willing buyer, financing that could expire, harm to a working manufacturing business. He described Nathan's revocation as an emotional reaction to a public humiliation.
The judge listened without changing expression.
“The original consent?” she asked Hannah.
Hannah handed it up. “Mr. Mercer acknowledges his personal signature. Our concern is the authority currently claimed under it, the disputed joint trust consent, the undisclosed transaction information, and this separate purported director approval.”
June took the witness chair. Under oath, she identified her genuine correspondence and the PDF she had not approved.
“Where were you on the date shown?” Hannah asked.
“At the hospital with my mother for part of that day. I have the visitor record and my calendar.”
Victor's lawyer rose. “People can sign electronically from hospitals.”
“Of course,” June said. “My location alone doesn't establish anything. I did not sign this document. The archive also contains a different attachment version and the forwarding record.”
The judge looked directly at her. “Have those records been preserved?”
“Yes.”
Nathan felt a fierce, quiet gratitude for her precision. June had given the court what she knew, and stopped where her knowledge stopped.
Hannah introduced the independent appraisal and the proposed purchase price. She did not describe the difference as stolen money already recovered. She described a sale that, if completed, would transfer a company asset while the legitimacy of its approvals remained disputed.
Victor's lawyer argued that the appraisal omitted redevelopment risk. Hannah answered that the missing attachments and consent dispute warranted examination before a deed changed hands.
The judge asked Nathan to stand.
Hannah had called him to answer the limited questions about his authorization. The clerk administered the oath, and Nathan gave his name. He heard Mercer sound different in this room. It identified a witness who had obligations, rather than a family whose explanations other people were expected to accept.
“Did you read the entire authorization before signing?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Why?”
He could have offered grief, the wedding, the children, a hundred true details arranged into an excuse.
“I trusted my uncle and wanted the paperwork finished. That was my responsibility. I didn't meet it.”
Victor stared at the tabletop.
Martin was allowed to address the papers filed on Sabrina's behalf concerning the allegations being circulated about her. He called the accusations untested. He said Nathan's repeated travel and reliance on other caregivers deserved investigation too.
“Those issues concern a separate investigation,” the judge said. “They do not supply valid transaction approvals. Nor will I determine child protection questions in this proceeding.”
Nathan sat. His face burned, partly because Martin's implication was cruel and partly because the underlying calendar was real.
After a brief recess, the judge returned with a temporary order. The disputed River Street sale would remain paused pending a fuller hearing on October twentieth. Relevant company and transaction records had to be preserved. The parties would exchange specified materials under a schedule their lawyers would arrange. Hannah would address the required security and wording with the clerk and opposing counsel.
The order did not freeze every company account. It did not declare Victor guilty or erase Nathan's consent. Its limits made it feel more solid to Nathan than a sweeping promise would have.
Outside, Victor turned on him.
“You have no idea what you've started.”
“I'm beginning to.”
Sabrina stood a few feet away, holding a folded tissue that remained clean. “You were never there,” she said. “Ask anyone.”
Nathan's first impulse was to defend himself. He could list every bedtime missed for a legitimate reason, every bill paid, every flight taken to keep the business alive. Avery had not needed a list.
“My absence doesn't explain what happened to them.”
Martin guided Sabrina toward the elevators before she replied.
Hannah waited until they were out of earshot. “We have time now. That's what today bought.”
“And the next hearing?”
“We bring better evidence. We ask for the relief the evidence supports.”
Nathan called Grace from the courthouse steps. Avery was eating toast in the kitchen. In the background, Milo said “more,” with the solemn insistence of someone negotiating the whole world.
“You can tell her nobody asked her to come,” Nathan said.
“I'll tell her.”
He was about to get into Hannah's car when Detective Cho called. The investigator did not mention the courtroom order. He asked whether Nathan could meet later that day and bring records.
“What records?”
May you like
“Your actual travel calendar,” Cho said. “Not just the trips you remember.”
Nathan looked up at the courthouse windows. He had stopped one closing. The next door would open onto all the days he had left home.
