My mother-in-law dragged me to court, accusing me of pretending to be pregnant to snatch the inheritance. Then, right there in the courtroom, she lunged forward and kicked my stomach. “See? It’s all fake!” Gasps erupted. What she didn’t realize… the man behind the judge’s bench was my father. And in that instant, her case didn’t just fall apart. Her life did haj.

She didn’t know. She had no idea that while she was busy counting her husband’s coins, I was the one holding the keys to a kingdom she couldn’t even imagine. I was the daughter of the “Iron Gavel,” and I had been raised in the very courtrooms she intended to use as my gallows.

Cliffhanger:
As Agatha stormed out, slamming the mahogany doors, I picked up a small, leather-bound book hidden in the side drawer of Marcus’s desk. Inside was a single phone number labeled “Dad – Only in Case of Death.” My finger trembled over the dial pad, but a sharp pain in my side—a warning from the stress—made me pause. Just then, a black envelope was slid under the door by a silent footman. It was a subpoena for the South County Courthouse.

Chapter 2: The Courtroom Theater
The South County Courthouse was a cathedral of judgment. Its high ceilings and echoing halls were designed to make a person feel small, and as I walked in, flanked by a court-appointed attorney I had purposefully chosen for his “average” appearance, the flashbulbs of a dozen cameras blinded me.