Page 17 of Courted By the Grumpy Dragon (Monsters of Saltford Bay #2)
Chapter Twelve
Kraxon
This is it. This is the moment of truth.
Like all courtrooms, the Saltford Bay Town Hall courtroom feels like a cage. It should make me anxious, but it doesn’t. This is what I’ve been living for, what I love.
It’s my moment to shine, to fight for what’s right. And what’s right is that Harold’s last wishes are respected.
My hands straighten the already immaculate stack of documents before me.
Most lawyers are nervous before a hearing, but not me.
A cold kind of peace always settles over my mind when I’m about to face the judge, and today is no different.
The morning light streams through tall windows along the left wall, catching dust motes that drift through air heavy with furniture polish and the distinctive mustiness of a space that's both well-maintained and infrequently used.
Nina sits beside me, the navy blue of her dress bringing out warm highlights in her brown hair.
Her hands rest in her lap, tightly folded to hide their trembling, but I can smell the anxiety rolling off her in waves, cutting through her natural honeysuckle scent.
My instinct to wrap her in my wings strikes hard, but I suppress it immediately.
A courtroom filled with humans and Others is not the place for dragon mating behavior, no matter how much I want to comfort her.
I scan the gallery, surprised by how many faces I recognize after just a few weeks in Saltford Bay.
The entire town seems to have turned out for this hearing.
Theo and Mrs. Stonemason occupy the bench directly behind Nina, their expressions grim but determined.
Behind them sit shopkeepers, families, and elderly patrons I recognize from the library's Halloween celebration.
Their collective presence adds a weight to these proceedings I hadn't anticipated.
Across the aisle, Delilah Vance sits with her lawyer and Marcus Baird, a study in cultivated elegance.
Her cream-colored dress is perfectly tailored, her platinum hair swept into an elaborate updo that emphasizes her sharp cheekbones.
She exudes absolute certainty, occasionally leaning over to whisper something to Marcus, who nods with the smug satisfaction of someone who believes victory is already secured.
They have no idea what I have in store for them.
The bailiff's voice cuts through the murmurs.
"All rise. The Honorable Judge Morrison presiding. "
We stand as one, a collective rustle of clothing and the creaking of benches. Judge Morrison enters from his chambers, his black robes sweeping behind him as he takes his position at the elevated bench.
"Be seated," he says, his voice carrying easily through the room's excellent acoustics.
As we settle back into our seats, I feel Nina's knee brush against mine beneath the table. I allow my temperature to rise just slightly where our legs touch, offering what small comfort I can without being obvious.
Judge Morrison adjusts his reading glasses and surveys the room before speaking.
"We are here today to determine the validity of two conflicting last wills and testaments of Harold James Greaves, deceased." His gaze shifts to me. "Mr. Ashbane, as executor, you may begin."
I rise, buttoning my suit jacket with a single fluid motion. Years of courtroom experience take over, steadying my hands and clearing my mind of everything except the case before me.
"Thank you, Your Honor." My voice projects easily to the back of the room without sounding forced. "I would like to present a timeline of Harold Greaves's estate planning, beginning with his original will executed on September fifteenth of this year."
For the next twenty minutes, I methodically lay out the evidence we've gathered.
Board meeting minutes where Harold explicitly mentioned the library endowment.
Financial planning documents showing preliminary endowment structures.
Correspondence with the library board discussing implementation strategies.
With each piece of evidence, I build a picture of a man whose commitment to the Saltford Bay Public Library was consistent and unwavering .
Judge Morrison listens attentively, occasionally making notes. His expression remains neutral, offering no hint of his thoughts. Delilah's lawyer shifts uncomfortably in his chair but offers no objections as I continue my presentation.
"Next, Your Honor, I would like to submit this invoice from Coastal Memorial Engraving.
" I hand the document to the court clerk, who passes it to the judge.
"Dated October thirteenth, this shows that Harold commissioned a memorial plaque for the library's children's section.
You'll note his handwritten inscription explicitly mentions the endowment. "
Judge Morrison examines the document carefully, then he looks up at me over his reading glasses.
"Continue, Mr. Ashbane."
I can feel the momentum building in the room. The townspeople lean forward in their seats. Nina's anxiety scent shifts slightly, now tinged with hope.
"Finally, Your Honor, I present what I believe is the most compelling evidence regarding Harold's true intentions.
" I remove the letter from my briefcase, along with documentation from the courier service.
"This letter was delivered to Nina Farrington on Halloween night.
Harold arranged the delivery himself, with explicit instructions that it be delivered specifically on October thirty-first."
The judge accepts the documents, his eyebrows lifting slightly as he reads through the courier's delivery confirmation.
"The letter is dated October twenty-second," I continue, "six days after the alleged new will that eliminated the library endowment. In it, Harold clearly confirms his intention to fund the library through the endowment mentioned in his original will. "
Judge Morrison reads the letter silently. The courtroom falls so quiet I can hear the clock on the wall ticking. Nina holds her breath beside me, and I resist the urge to place my hand over hers.
"In the letter, Harold specifically states his confidence in his decision to establish the ten-year endowment," I emphasize. "He mentions me by name as the executor working to implement his wishes regarding the library's financial security."
Delilah's lawyer finally rises.
"Your Honor, while this letter is certainly touching, it lacks legal standing as a testamentary document.
It contains no witnesses, no notarization, and no explicit revocation of the October sixteenth will.
We maintain that the properly executed will, with witnesses and notarization, must take precedence regardless of this informal correspondence. "
The judge removes his glasses and looks between me and Mr. Lancaster in turn before settling on me.
"Mr. Ashbane, do you have a response to counsel's statement?"
I take a measured breath.
"Your Honor, while I acknowledge the letter does not meet all formal requirements of a testamentary document, it provides clear evidence of Harold's state of mind and intentions.
Combined with the consistent pattern of evidence showing Harold's commitment to funding the library, it strongly suggests the October sixteenth will does not reflect his true wishes. "
Judge Morrison replaces his glasses, nodding to himself. He appears to be weighing both arguments carefully. Beside me, Nina's anxiety spikes, her scent sharpening with fear. My wings press painfully against my back as I fight the instinct to wrap them protectively around her.
The judge draws breath to speak, but before he can, a commotion at the back of the courtroom interrupts him.
"Your Honor," a thin voice calls out. "I need to testify. About the will."
Every head in the courtroom turns. Standing in the center aisle is Trina Voss, her small pixie frame visibly trembling, her wings fluttering nervously behind her conservative suit jacket. Her face is pale but determined, her lavender eyes wide, but her small mouth pressed into a resolved line.
Whispers erupt around the room. Delilah whips around in her seat, her expression morphing from shock to fury in an instant. Marcus half-rises before his lawyer yanks him back down.
"Order," Judge Morrison calls, bringing down his gavel once. "Order in the court." When the room quiets, he addresses Trina directly. "Please approach the witness stand, Ms...?"
"Voss, Your Honor. Trina Voss."
She walks slowly to the witness stand, her steps unsteady but purposeful. The court clerk administers the oath, and Trina's voice wavers but doesn't break as she swears to tell the truth.
"Ms. Voss, you wish to testify about the will dated October sixteenth?" Judge Morrison asks.
Trina nods, then remembers to speak aloud. "Yes, Your Honor."
"Please proceed."
Trina takes a deep breath, her wings fluttering beneath her jacket .
"The will is a forgery," she says, her voice gaining strength with each word. "Delilah and Marcus forged it using an automatic pen machine to replicate Harold's signature. I was there. I saw the whole thing."
The courtroom erupts with gasps and murmurs. Judge Morrison brings down his gavel again.
"Continue, Ms. Voss," he instructs once the room quiets.
"After Harold called Delilah on October fourteenth, she was furious.
She kept saying he couldn't leave so much of his money to the library, that she deserved everything.
" Trina's words come faster now. "She called Marcus, and they came up with the plan to create a new will.
Marcus made a few phone calls, and he ended up connecting to someone who could create a convincing document. "
I glance at Delilah. Her composure is cracking visibly, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the edge of the table, her face flushing with anger.