Fenella’s POV
“Oh, sweet Mother, that was divine!” Jessy took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then he opened his eyes wide while his mouth continued chewing my mother’s crab cakes. The murmurs and cheers were still heard until he finally finished his last bite.
“I was glad you liked them,” my mother smiled broadly.
“I didn’t just like them. I loved, loved, loved them!”
Everyone around us laughed at Jessy’s confession. We felt the same way because my mother had succeeded in making a super delicious wedding reception dish. Truly, our Baxter family home was filled with guests. Even though we had invited only a small number of people, our home had never been this lively.
The decorations of pink, white, and red flowers and balloons filled the entire room. The furniture had been rearranged to create enough space for the guests to dance or chat. Soft music played through the speakers set up in the corner of the room.
Occasionally, guests would step up to change the music, hold the microphone, and sing, which would then be met with sing-alongs from the other guests. Once again, even though it wasn’t a lavish reception, the festive atmosphere in our home was no less lively.
I knew my mother was happy with her home that was never quiet throughout the day. The party continued even into the evening. When everyone’s stomachs were full, the beer had run out, and no one could sing anymore, everyone finally went home.
Jessy, Matthew, Mr. Golden, Lloyd, and Laird-my husband-were the last remaining men willing to help clean up the house. We rearranged the furniture, took out the trash, and washed the dishes.
“God! I was exhausted!” Matthew flopped onto the sofa.
Next to him, Jessy sat with his back fully against the sofa. Lloyd daydreamed with a sleepy look beside Jessy, while Mr. Golden helped my mother wash the dishes.
“So true! I would never host a house party again,” Jessy shook his head.
“You weren’t the host,” Lloyd frowned, countering Jessy’s statement.
“You know I never asked all of you to stay and help us clean the house, right?” Laird leaned back on the sofa.
“Yeah, but we’re family. I didn’t have the heart to leave this mess for you all alone,” Jessy replied, furrowing his brow.
“Thank you so much, guys. I really appreciated this. If you ever need a professional party girl, just remember I’m one call away.” I chuckled and leaned my head on Laird’s shoulder.
“The house across the street must need her. Their place is dark and gloomy, and the occupants moved here,” Matthew laughed loudly.
Hearing Matthew’s joke, we all fell silent. Especially Laird and I, who immediately remembered the reason we had rushed to get married. Even to this moment, Mr. Evans hadn’t said congratulations or a single word to us. Not even to Lloyd, aside from demanding he do better than his brother.
“Not funny,” Jessy elbowed Matthew. He groaned softly and then finally covered his mouth.
“Do you all know where you want to go for your honeymoon?” Jessy asked, changing the topic.
“I don’t know. Any ideas?” I asked him.
“How about Mexico? Our vacation plans there fell through,” Laird suggested.
“I don’t know. Mexico reminds me of bad memories,” I quickly replied.
“That’s okay. You should go there again and make beautiful new memories to erase the bad trauma of that place,” Lloyd said casually.
“You can’t go on your honeymoon until you finish testifying at the trial.” Mr. Golden approached us and sat on the empty sofa.
“And when is that?” Laird asked.
“Next week,” Mr. Golden replied.
“Then the honeymoon must be postponed until next week,” Laird murmured, disappointment evident in his eyes.
I could only let out a long sigh.
***
This time it was my turn to testify as a witness brought in by the prosecutor. After being sworn in with the Bible, I provided my testimony through a Q&A session with Mr. Golden, as I had memorized from my witness statement copy. After Mr. Golden finished his questioning, he sat down and was replaced by the defense attorney for the defendant.
I glanced at Alan, Peter, and Amy sitting behind the defendant’s table. They looked weary, without any makeup. Alan, in particular, appeared even more unkempt and thinner. We only exchanged distant glances, and I didn’t dare to look at him for too long.
Mr. Hugo Evans stood up and faced me in his luxurious three-piece suit. His hair was neatly combed, and an invisible charismatic aura radiated from him. Alongside Mr. Golden, the room seemed to have two suns, causing the journalists in the back of the courtroom to uproar.
“Mrs. Baxter. What motivated you to assist Mr. Golden in the investigation?”
“Like I said before, I needed to do the right thing.”
Shit! My voice sounded hoarse and weak.
“The right thing, huh? How did you know the defendants were doing the wrong thing?” Mr. Evans-my father-in-law-said loudly as he walked confidently around the courtroom.
“My husband told me about the defendants’ actions and their family.”
“When?”
“On Christmas Eve.” After I answered, Mr. Evans blinks. There was a pause before he cleared his throat and continued his questioning.
“Were you still under contract as a talent at the defendant’s agency at that time?”
“Legally, yes. I had submitted my resignation, but the defendant was still persuading me to stay.”
“You handed your resignation letter after the advertising scandal with the defendant. Is that true?”
“No, it was weeks before that.”
“So it’s about settling a score? You wanted to get revenge and drag him down, is that it?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Irrelevant to the case.” Mr. Golden interrupted from his desk.
“I’m digging into the true intentions of the case, Your Honor,” Mr. Evans argued more loudly.
“Overruled. Witness, please answer the question,” the judge ordered.
I was silent for quite a while, my breath becoming irregular. My eyes glanced toward Laird. He looked at me intently, worry etched on his furrowed brow.
“I just wanted him to acknowledge his actions and pay for all his mistakes.”
“His mistakes towards you? Isn’t that a selfish personal vendetta?”
“Objection, Your Honor. This is irrelevant.” Mr. Golden emphasized his frustration.
“Sustain. We know the reason. Next question, Mr. Evans,” the judge said, rolling his eyes. Mr. Evans pouted his lips, then tilted his head to me again.
“Tell me, Mrs. Baxter. What did you do after you learned that the defendant was involved in criminal activities?”
“I coordinated with the prosecutor and the FBI.” I replied, unconsciously holding my breath.
“What did you coordinate?”
“A few strategies to obtain concrete evidence of the crimes committed,” I said, my heart pounding uncontrollably.
“So you had never seen concrete evidence with your own eyes? Was there any entrapment with the evidence obtained illegally?”
“Objection! The attorney is leading the witness. Our coordination is part of a legitimate investigation under the jurisdiction of the prosecutor and FBI.” Mr. Golden shouted impatiently.
“Not if the evidence you obtained also stemmed from illegal actions!” Mr. Evans retorted loudly.
“It was a secret operation!”
“You mean involving civilians who weren’t officially working for the government? Espionage conducted illegally is a criminal act tampering with privacy.”
“Enough!” The judge banged the gavel.
“Sue us! We just want to crack their crime!”
“You just want to trap them! Who knows if the proof is legitimate or if it was planted by her revenge motive?”
“Enough both of you!” The judge banged the gavel repeatedly. The courtroom erupted into noise with the murmur of spectators and journalists.
“The court is adjourned!”
***
This time I watched Laird from the spectator seats. It felt strange to see a father and son in the same courtroom as opponents.
“Mr. Evans, did you open confidential agreements of your clients to the prosecutor and FBI?” Mr. Evans asked, his voice hoarse yet loud.
“I did.”
“Will you tell me why you risked your lawyer’s license for that? It’s unethical.”
“Because I saw injustice and greed.” Laird answered in a low, cold voice.
“So you’re trying to be a hero? Not because of your personal feelings towards the defendant who happened to be your high school classmate who stole your girlfriend.”
“Objection! It’s out of context.” Mr. Golden interjected.
“Sustain.” The judge decided. Mr. Evans puckered his mouth, then let it slide.
“What made you sure that the defendant was engaged in criminal activities?” Mr. Evans stepped closer to Laird again.
“I saw all the copies of the contract documents and felt something was amiss.”
“Can you please specify what was amiss?” Mr. Evans pressed Laird.
“The shareholders of some of those companies were foreign investment firms. There were also some patterns of contractual relationships that were similar among companies, even though they claimed not to be affiliated with each other.”
“After noticing the irregularities, what did you do?”
“I dug deeper. I connected them all and looked behind their financial reports. Then I reported it to the prosecutor.”
“But you’re a lawyer, not an FBI agent. You can’t just knock on the prosecutor’s office out of the blue and hand him those documents. Why did you do that if not because of your personal hatred towards them?”
“I don’t care about that. All I know is I needed to make things right.”
“You should care! It’s your reputation as a trusted lawyer and your career!” Mr. Evans snapped.
“No, it’s not. I’d be happy to give you my license any time of day.” Laird replied coldly.
“Objection! This is getting personal and going nowhere, Your Honor.”
“Sustain. Mr. Evans, I don’t want any conflict of interest between family here. If you can’t be professional, stand down and bring in another lawyer. The court is adjourned!”