“Dad, my husband hit me with a baseball bat.” My daughter was crying so hard she could barely speak when I heard her husband shouting in the background. Then the phone was ripped from her hand and the call went dead. I was twenty minutes away, but the man I sent to reach her first was the last person her husband expected to find racing toward his front door.

The courtroom was quiet, filled only with legal clerks, police officers, and local journalists who had picked up the story of the prominent local developer's daughter surviving a brutal assault.

I sat in the front row of the gallery alongside Derek. Lena sat beside Gabriel at the prosecution table, wearing a dark gray blazer that neatly covered her arm cast. She looked nervous, but her posture was straight, her head held high.

When the side door opened and two armed bailiffs led Travis inside, a soft murmur ran through the room.

Travis looked completely unrecognizable from the arrogant man who had stood in his driveway three weeks ago. He wore an orange orange county jumpsuit, hand restraints chained around his waist, his hair unkempt, his face pale and sunken.

As he was guided to the defense table, his eyes swept the gallery and landed on me and Derek.

Derek didn't flinch. He sat with his arms folded, staring directly into Travis's eyes with an icy, unwavering glare that made Travis instantly look down at the floor.

The judge—a stern, grey-haired woman named Honorable Patricia Reyes—banged her gavel on the wooden block. "Court is now in session. State versus Travis Miller. Preliminary hearing on felony indictment counts one through five."

Travis's defense attorney, Marcus Thorne, stood up immediately. "Your Honor, my client wishes to enter a formal plea of Not Guilty to all counts. We also request an immediate reduction of bail to fifty thousand dollars on grounds that Mr. Miller has no prior criminal record and poses no flight risk."

The Assistant District Attorney, a sharp young woman named Sarah Jenkins, stood up beside Gabriel. "Your Honor, the State strongly opposes any modification of bail. The defendant committed a brutal, calculated assault using a deadly weapon on his wife, causing severe bodily injury including a compound fracture. Furthermore, while incarcerated, the defendant violated an active protective order by attempting to intimidate the victim via text message."

Judge Reyes’s sharp eyes snapped directly toward Travis. "Is this true, Mr. Thorne? Did your client contact the victim from the detention facility?"

Thorne swallowed hard, shuffling his papers nervously. "Your Honor, my client was merely attempting to express remorse—"

"It was witness intimidation, Your Honor!" Ms. Jenkins interrupted firmly, handing a certified copy of the text log to the bailiff. "The defendant explicitly attempted to coerce the victim into withdrawing her criminal complaint."

Judge Reyes reviewed the printout, her brow furrowing into deep, furious lines. She looked over her reading glasses at Travis, who shrank back in his chair.

"Mr. Miller," Judge Reyes said, her voice echoing like thunder through the courtroom. "You used a baseball bat on your wife, forged her name to steal hundreds of thousands of dollars, and then had the sheer audacity to contact her from a jail cell to guilt her into dropping charges?"

"Your Honor, please—" Travis started to whimper.

"Silence!" Judge Reyes barked, slamming her gavel down. "Bail is DENIED. The defendant will remain in custody at the county detention facility pending full criminal trial. Court adjourned!"

BANG!

As the bailiffs grabbed Travis's arms to lead him back through the side exit, Travis panicked. He turned his head toward our table, screaming hysterically: "Lena! Please! Talk to them! You can't let them do this to me! Lena!"

Lena didn't turn around. She didn't cry. She simply reached out, took my hand in hers, and squeezed it tightly.